||Minors DNI please|| I like things! Video games! Books! TV shows! A whole bunch of fandoms! I write for some of them sometimes! I'm always happy to get asks/submissions and please know I treasure them all and will get around to them but it might take a while.
Dennis was a better fit into the Danforth family than most of the Danforths could have believed.
He grew up in rural communities where gossip ran like liquor. He didn't snark back or get riled up like the rest of the family, and at a certain point the rest of the family gets used to being able to say whatever they want in front of him.
But if you look closely, you see the eyes narrow and the slight turns of his head, and it's almost like he's listening and considering. But really it's just a decision being made.
The waitstaff of the manor see Dennis slink down the hallway out of his and Titus' bedroom in the middle of the night. He's always polite, always smiling as he tells them not to wake up Titus, and then sneak back in before the sun rises through the house's large windows. If he comes back too late he stayed downstairs, waiting in the kitchen for breakfast and for Titus to come in grumbling about being left alone when he wakes up.
"Where'd you go anyway? The staff said you were gone."
"I just wanted to take Princess for a walk." (The sweet, beautiful pup that Titus had gotten for Dennis after their first marital spat.)
"Why didn't you come back after the walk?"
"Don't pout, Titus, I'm sorry."
All that earned was more grumbling and an arm catching Dennis around the waist as he passes close enough to Titus' chair.
"…Did you at least have fun?" He rasped, sweeping his thumb over the dip of Dennis's spine as he kissed Titus's forehead.
"Oh yeah. Much more than I thought I would."
Titus doesn't think twice about it until he gets a letter saying one of his cousins had died last night in his sleep; asphyxiation, officially, the poor man had been smoking cigars all his life. Unfortunate but not unheard of. Titus pauses when he reads the cause of death and looks up at his pretty wife lounging on the deep green fainting couch by the window
He was the vision of innocence, cuddling with Princess and just looking out the window while the sun made his hair glow.
"Angel?"
"Hmm?"
"Cousin Maximus died last night- poor fucker choked in his sleep." Dennis hummed, his nose wrinkling slightly.
"Is that the one that smoked those nasty cigars in the living room?"
"They aren't nasty, they're Cuban."
"Those nasty Cuban cigars, my bad."
And the air is heavy with... something. Something that Titus can't name. He got up and strolled over slowly, absently petting Princess's head as he leaned down to press a kiss to his curls. He paused. A scent clung to his hair.
Cigar smoke.
"Everything okay?"
Titus looked down at him and Dennis could swear he sees something click in his eyes, the slight widening. But it's flits away just as quickly as Titus shrugs.
"Right as rain, angel."
It becomes a bit of a rhythm. Once in a while, Titus will wake up by himself and a letter will be on his desk by midday.
Maybe he should be more worried about his lovely wife killing off family members, but he always picks well. People he didn't like, the only people in the world who could rattle him. Most of the family is kept in line by Titus now, but those little whispers of dissent? The ones who think they can lie in wait? His wife deals with them.
And even though they never actually talk about it directly between the two of them, Titus always knows.
.
.
.
.
Thank you @crazyamoeba for the brainwormssss xoxo ily
Thinking...service dog Dennis on a rare night shift during a thunder storm. And Abbot finds him hiding under the table in the break room from some particularly loud thunder
Service Dog Dennis AU Part 10
Thank you so much for this, I'm sorry it took so long! I'm also sorry because there is a mention of Dennis wetting himself out of fear, but this is absolutely a non-sexual caretaking situation.
Jack had been caught off guard when the thunder first started. He never really bothered to check the weather forecast; Robby always claimed it was his last desperate attempt to cling to a sense of sponteneity and adventure.
Jack told Robby that someone with a midlife crisis bike didn't get to say those things.
He hadn't really thought much of it, beyond noting which patients or staff seemed spooked by the sound - nothing too bad, some kids with some wobbly lip and a few of the residents flinched a little at the first clap, but nobody seemed to need any kind of intervention.
The fact that he hadn't even thought to check on Dennis would always sit in the corners of his mind where he kept his all his failures close.
The night had been a busy one, and he had lost track of Dennis' happy tail and twitchy ears as they passed each other like ships in the night, wending their way to different bedsides and rarely overlapping.
As soon as he sepped into the break room during a lull, it was immediately obvious that something was wrong.
The smell hit him first; the distinct, stale odour of urine soaking into the air. It was immediate and the source obvious; a cold puddle trailing out from underneath the table, where Jack could see a pair of battered shoes that he recognised with a rapidly-sinking stomach.
"Dennis?" He crouched slowly, keeping his distance from the table, for reasons entirely unrelated to the urine.
He received no response, and he didn't need one.
Because there, huddled under the table and shaking so violently that his muscles must surely be stiffening painfully, was their sweet Dennis.
Ears pinned back to his head, eyes wide and almost entirely swallowed by his pupils, tail curled tightly to his body. The fur was a little wet near the base.
"Hey honey," he spoke softly, caught the tiny twitch of the tip of one ear. "Thunder's not a friend, huh?"
Dennis didn't give any confirmation or denial, but considering that he jolted violently with every new boom that rolled over their heads, it would have been superfluous and cruel to insist on it.
Jack nodded, casting his eyes around for something he could use, before inspiration struck.
"I'm gonna go get something for you, Den. I'll be right back, okay?"
The look that Dennis pinned him with somehow managed to be blank and terrified at the same time. Jack nodded again, recalibrating. He pulled out his phone, fiddled with the settings before placing it gently on the ground in front of Dennis.
"See this timer? I'm going to go to Robby's office to fetch something real quick-" unfortunately not the man himself "-but I will be back before the timer runs out."
Dennis trembled, made a gesture that might be a nod but might just be the force of his body shaking.
"Okay." Jack reached out, smoothed a hand carefully over Dennis' head to see how he tolerates it. His ears made way for Jack's hand, and he blinked slowly.
Jack rose, wincing a little at the twinge his leg gives where it rubs in the prosthesis.
He slipped of of the breakroom, flagging down Lena on his brisk trot towards Robby's largely unused office.
"Break room's off limits for the next few minutes, can you let everyone know? And have environmental standing by."
He didn't break his stride, but he heard Lena's exasperated but affirmative huff. He'd apologise later.
Robby's office was more store-room than workspace, because when the man was in the building, every second was spent out on the floor with the patients and staff. He barely had time to sit at the workstation out on the floor, let alone sequester himself away in his office during his shift.
Nevertheless, Jack found what he was looking for hanging up on a hook behind the door, as he knew he would, because none of them ever really wear the things.
He gave the surprisingly still-white coat a quick sniff, shrugging to himself and hoping for the best. To him, it didn't really smell like much, but he was hoping that the kid's nose might be able to pick up enough of Robby's scent to lend him some sort of comfort.
Another crack of thunder hurried him out of the office and back down the hallway.
He entered the break room as quietly as he could, closing the door softly behind him.
"Hey, Denny." He crouched again, shaking out the coat. "See, told you I'd be back before the timer ran down. Not bad for a man with one leg."
He hadn't been expecting a laugh or the usual scandalised attempt at hiding one, and that was probably a good thing because Dennis looked like he might not even be able to process the fact that Jack was talking to him, let along joking with him.
Jack slipped his phone back in his pocket, and gave Dennis' back a quick, firm stroke.
"Okay, kid. Speaking of my leg, I'm going to need you to come on out of there. I got something to help you but I can't scrunch up under there like you can."
Jack placed two careful but firm hands around the kid's waist as he spoke, petting his sides with small movements of his fingers and gradually increasing the pressure until he had a firm enough grip.
"There we go, kiddo, nice and easy."
He started to gently slide Dennis out from under the table, the smooth floor and the kid's tightly-curled position helping to ease the way in gliding the little ball of misery closer to him. Jack felt the panicked little growl unfurl in Dennis' chest as he was brought out from under the shelter of the table, and there was a little flash of white as Dennis curled his lip to reveal his sharp canines and snap them vaguely in Jack's direction.
"Oh, I know, you're very big and scary," Jack murmured as he scoots Dennis the rest of the way, maneuvering them so that he was sitting leaning against the wall and Dennis was dragged to be cradled between his legs, back nestled against Jack's chest. He paid no mind to urine soaking through into his own scrubs.
"There's a good boy, I gotcha." Jack quickly unfurl's Robby's old lab coat, draping it around the kid's front and winding it tightly around him like a swaddle. Dennis' growls tapered off into a something between a grunt and a whine as he shifts uneasily in Jack's grip.
"Yeah, I know it feels too tight, sweet pea. But the pressure's gonna help, I promise." Jack leaned his head back against the wall, bringing his hand up to encourage Dennis to rest his head on his chest.
"Let's just stay here quietly for a minute. You're okay."
Jack's hand ran gently through Dennis' curls, stroking down his ears, repeating the motion until he felt a shuddery sigh leave Dennis' body, felt him slump and finally relax against him.
"There you go. Good job, Den."
His only answer was a quiet sniffling that turned into gentle sniffs, Dennis' head tilting as he snuffled at the collar of the coat wrapped around him.
"Yeah," Jack huffed, patting Dennis' back with his free hand, "thought you'd like that. Favourite-person-smell, and all. He hasn't worn it in a while, sorry if it's a little stale. Should still smell like him though, even if it does also have hints of indignant rage left over."
Jack's not sure whether he imagined the tiny, questioning sound that left Dennis' mouth, but there's never going to be a time when telling stories about Michael Robinavitch is boring to him.
"He only ever wears it when Gloria forces him to. And she's usually only doing that when she wants the good publicity. Takes her weeks to wear him down, she probably has to schedule events around how long he's gonna hold out for."
He chuckled, tried not to let it be too egregiously fond. Resettled Dennis when he shuffled a little, re-adjusting so he could gently straighten the slightly damp tail so it wasn't all scrunched up against Jack's legs.
"You should see the - sorry buddy, just don't wanna squash your tail - you should see the fucking photos of Robby from those events. You've never seen a more bitter, lemon-sucking face than Robby at a press event where he has to wear the white coat and do the Doctor Robinavitch and His Travelling Circus song and dance - his words, not mine."
Jack cocked an eyebrow at Dennis as if he'd actually made a complaint.
"His obnoxious, fake smile is even worse though, so Gloria stopped trying to force it and settled for him looking like he's being held at gunpoint instead."
Jack smiled at the small, giggle-adjacent puff of air exhaled against his chest. He scritched Dennis' ears and allowed them both to settle into silence for a while, vaguely wondering if they'd heard the last of the thunder.
"I'm sorry."
Jack closed his eyes, longer than a blink and in place of a sigh.
"No, kid. You don't need to be sorry. Not ever for shit like this."
"I'm - I'm getting you all wet."
"Denny," Jack's hand squeezed gently at the base of the kid's neck and softened his tone, "that's literally what scrubs are for. I've been a doctor for over twenty years; I've had a lot worse than a little pee on them."
He could practically feel Dennis' cheek burning against his chest as he wriggled uncomfortably at the word being spoken aloud.
"That's what the scrub dispenser is for, honey. Don't worry about it."
He gave them both another moment of stillness, hands smoothing up and down Dennis' arms like he was trying to warm him. He took the opportunity to give Dennis a quick once-over, pleased to see the shakes had stopped, the kid's pulse wasn't fluttering so wildly at his neck, and even his ears were starting to hesitantly perk up from their defensive position plastered flat against the kid's head.
Denny's pants were soaked through, and Jack could feel the way he was holding himself stiffly, trying not to move too much and have his skin start blaring overstimulated and disgusted warnings at him.
Jack lowered his voice until he was practically whispering in Dennis' ear, even though it really was just the two of them in the room.
"Hey, Denny? How about we go get all cleaned up, sound good?"
Dennis immediately ducked his head, a soft and reflexive whine leaving him. Jack wordlessly settled him, patting his back again and shushing him, giving him a moment to feel whatever he needed to feel.
Eventually, he felt Dennis' head move against his chest in a slow nod. He dipped his head and pressed a quick kiss against the curls, nodding in return.
___
The staff showers weren't the most luxurious experience, but they were modern and clean, and Jack was continually surprised that administration had ever given them the stamp of approval. He suspected that Robby's repeated yelling and stomping had something to do with it.
He had sat Dennis on the shower chair and instructed him gently to remove his clothes while Jack messed with the temperature, but he could see that the kid hadn't moved a muscle, and was tightening himself back into that little ball of humiliation from earlier.
Jack knelt down in front of him, ignoring his leg's protest. He set his hand gently on Dennis' knee.
"Let me help you, sweetheart. Sometimes it makes it easier."
Because he knew all too well the terrible and continual clash between the furious desire for independence, wanting to be treated like there was nothing different or wrong, and wanting someone to just fucking see you.
Wanting someone to help when helping yourself just felt too goddamn humiliating and difficult.
Dennis nodded, lifed his hands from their protective position near his lap. Jack's movements were ever so gentle as he reached to slide Denns' top off and then unlace his scrub cords, but they were sure and firm, and he didn't drag the process out. There was an experienced and clinical deftness to the way he encouraged Dennis to lift his hips so he could slide his pants down his legs. He was incredibly gentle with manipulating Dennis' tail out from the pants, and he made sure his eyes didn't linger at the place where tail met skin.
It still wasn't quite enough to stop the gutteral little whine that broke free when he felt his wet pants be quickly stripped from his legs, like the speed would make them both forget that he'd pissed himself.
"Shh, you're okay. You're doing a real good job for me, Denny." Jack murmured as he adusted the shower head and directed the warm water over Dennis' lap and legs first.
Dennis turned his head away, eyes burning as he tried to swallow down the bitter humiliation.
Jack silently and clinically swept gloved, soapy hands across Dennis' body, giving his breathing time to settle before he took a breath and quietly spoke again.
"First time I heard gunfire - real, active battlezone gunfire - I pissed myself."
It was almost funny how quickly Dennis' head whipped around to stare up at Jack, but he made sure not to laugh or smile. He kept his expression open, nodded instead.
"It's the kind of thing nothing can actually prepare you for. You run all these drills, you pass all these marksmanship tests, you spend every day training in a place where you hear nothing but gunfire."
Jack placed one hand carefully on Dennis' forehead to guard his eyes, and carefully rinsed his hair with the shower head in his other hand.
"But none of that's real, even when they're live rounds. None of it can prepare you for suddenly being in the middle of a wide open field, and suddenly realising that this is real life, and there's not going to be any commanding officer calling time on any of this. You're here until you get out, or you don't."
Jack gently lifted Dennis' arms, and the kid let him sluice warm water there.
"Point is, I didn't have time to be embarrassed until later, when we were out of there and back at base. That was when it hit me."
Jack snorted, a surprisingly cheerful sound, and Dennis cocked his head minutely. A pale shadow of his usual curious tilt, but it spurred Jack to continue his story as he made sure Dennis was free of all his soap suds.
"My sergeant saw me trying to waddle away to hit the showers, and I thought I could try to lie to him when he asked me what was wrong." Jack's eyes were sparkling with a fond, remembered mirth that Dennis though suited him very much. "He looked down, realised what had happened, and Jesus Christ, the look he gave me. I thought he was going to ream me out in front of everyone for being a coward. But instead, he looked me up and down then stared me straight in the eye and said, 'Oh, you think you're so fucking special, don't you, Abbot? Think you're the first man to get scared when he's about to die? Do you think you're better than me, Private?' And it took me a while to really understand what he was saying, but when I finally got it, I'd taken too long to say no, so he had me on latrine duty for three weeks."
Jack's still telling the story with that slightly amused undertone bubbling underneath everything, so Dennis tried to take it in the spirit in which it was inteded, when really he would quite like to wrap his arms around Jack and squeeze.
He felt a scratchy towel descend over his shoulders, and his tail twitched once as Jack started to vigorously dry him all over, jostling his body in a way that made his ears prick up a little, like they did when it was play time.
"My point is," Jack scrubbed Dennis' hair and ears, snorting when Dennis made a soft yip and tried to give Jack a little nip, "I've seen all types of bodies and all types of people do pretty much everything under the sun when they're scared. Doesn't matter what you're scared of, that's not important. What's important is that it's a very natural response. Fear is just your body trying to keep you safe. It's just got a funny way of doing it sometimes."
Dennis nodded through the off-white shelter of the towel that was still drying his hair. The world suddenly reappeared when Jack excavated him from it, and the only thing in his field of vision was that soft, slightly lopsided smile that made Dennis' tail thump against the shower chair.
"Don't be ashamed of being scared, Denny. You got people in your corner when it gets too much to carry by yourself."
Before Dennis could do something stupid like launch himself at Jack and lick his face, the smile on it became something more like a smirk.
"Now. Wanna call Robby and whine until he brings us food?"
I think Dennis really, really enjoys getting his hair played with, like melts when anyone cards their hands through, and maybe rabbot knowing that and using it when Dennis is trying to slip out of bed on a day their all off?
Ough he's just like me fr (I also love having my hair played with). Again... this got away from me a bit. It's soft and sappy and I kind of love the idea of it <3
Dennis was an early riser. It didn't matter how late he went to bed, if he had work or not, or where he was, he was up at 6am at the absolute latest. It was one of the many things that carried over from farm life into emergency medicine: early mornings and late nights.
Moving in with Robby and Jack had not changed this fact, much to the older men's dismay.
Robby slept like the dead. He had three alarms on his phone spread out across fifteen minutes plus a last resort alarm clock for work days to make sure he was up in time to get to the Pitt. Sure, he had trouble falling asleep most nights, but once he was out? He’d probably sleep through a tornado (and had slept through most of a hurricane back during his residency in New Orleans).
Jack, like Dennis, was a man of routine. The military had given him a framework for his days, and he found that even after he got out that framework was beneficial for his life. The only problem for Jack was that his routine revolved around working 7pm to 7am, which was not exactly conducive to switching to a normal circadian rhythm on his days off.
All of that to say, there weren't many mornings where the three of them woke up together. Normally it was Dennis getting up and making coffee, with Robby following about an hour or so later. Jack would join them as soon as the smell of breakfast hit his nose; the man was a bloodhound when it came to Robby’s shakshouka. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing to wake up staggered like that, but both Robby and Jack had lamented being able to spend the morning hours in bed together - back before the world had caught up to them.
The two older men got their wish one morning after a night of what Dennis had deemed “corrupting a sweet innocent Nebraskan farm boy” and Jack had called “a normal Friday evening”.
Jack woke up, slightly sore and needing to piss like a racehorse. It was still mostly dark outside, the first rays of the morning sun just barely seeping over the horizon, as Jack extricated himself from the mess of tangled limbs that were Dennis and Robby. Thankfully, he’d had half a mind to put his crutches back in their spot next to the bed before their… activities the night before. He grabbed them and in a practiced motion, made his way to the en suite as quietly as possible.
When Jack exited the bathroom, he was disappointed to see Dennis sitting up in bed, his phone lighting up his face as he rubbed his eyes.
“What’re you doin’ up?” Dennis slurred softly, still half asleep.
Jack set his crutches back against the bedside table and sat down to rearrange his pillows before laying back down.
“Just had to piss,” he replied, “You should go back to bed. S’too early for us to be awake.”
As if to demonstrate Jack’s point, Dennis yawned, which in turn made Jack yawn too.
“That means we’re connected,” Dennis smirked, before shifting towards the edge of the bed. "I think I'm going to go for a run while it's still cool out-"
Jack shook his head and grabbed the younger man’s phone from his hands, putting it away on the side table. With his phone safely out of the way, Jack hauled Dennis down to him so that his back was against Jack’s chest. Robby barely stirred at the movement, a single snore rumbling through his throat that made Jack and Dennis pause momentarily.
“S'too early. Go back to bed, pup,” Jack whispered, one of his hands wrapping around the younger man’s hip and the other threading its way through Dennis’s curls.
Jack felt the tension melt from Dennis’s shoulder the moment his fingers sunk into Dennis’s hair. Dennis liked his hair played with, even if he refused to admit it. He liked the subtle pull as Jack gently untangled the knots that formed as he slept, the dull scratch of his blunt nails across his scalp. Jack loved the way Dennis’s soft hair glided through his fingers; loved being able to smell his curl products in their boy’s hair.
It wasn't long before Dennis’s breathing evened out. Jack smiled to himself as the first beam of sunlight crossed the hardwood floors of their room. He tucked his head against Dennis's back and sighed. If he was lucky, the next time he woke, Dennis and Robby would still be in bed.
But for now, he'd enjoy the soft daybreak with Dennis in his arms and Robby snoring quietly on the other side of the bed.
everyone assumes that when robby and jack talk about the club, they mean a country club. it’s just what makes the most sense! of course the two attendings belong to an upper crust, high society organization.
they talk about how they relaxed there over the weekend, how robby got over served and is still suffering the consequences, how enlightening the conversation is. there’s always a fundraiser or a mixer or a performance they’re going to. it seems that their social lives revolve around that place.
everyone envisions them in summery business casual eating at the club house, maybe golfing with the other department heads, basking by the pool. it becomes a sort of aspirational thing for the people that work under them. many residents dream of getting an attending gig, paying off their loans, and getting their membership.
jack and robby are not members of a country club. they’re regulars of an exclusive, invitation only BDSM club.
and dennis finds this out when his latest (much older) situationship takes him as a guest.
everyone assumes that when robby and jack talk about the club, they mean a country club. it’s just what makes the most sense! of course the two attendings belong to an upper crust, high society organization.
they talk about how they relaxed there over the weekend, how robby got over served and is still suffering the consequences, how enlightening the conversation is. there’s always a fundraiser or a mixer or a performance they’re going to. it seems that their social lives revolve around that place.
everyone envisions them in summery business casual eating at the club house, maybe golfing with the other department heads, basking by the pool. it becomes a sort of aspirational thing for the people that work under them. many residents dream of getting an attending gig, paying off their loans, and getting their membership.
jack and robby are not members of a country club. they’re regulars of an exclusive, invitation only BDSM club.
and dennis finds this out when his latest (much older) situationship takes him as a guest.
Dennis Whitaker disappears after his first shift at PTMC, and a few nights later, Robby tells Jack that the kid has been involved in an accident, and his left leg has been amputated.
---
Jack only met Dennis Whitaker once, and he only feels a little bad in saying that with everything happening in the aftermath of Pittfest, he didn't really remember the kid that well. He had a vague memory of big, fearful eyes, a competence fitting of an MS3, and nothing particularly loud or remarkable about the kid.
He didn't think too much of it, beyond a vague and academic concern, when Robby greeted him with a frown a couple of nights later at handoff.
"Are you gonna tell me or do I need to guess?"
"Whitaker hasn't shown up for his shifts the last few days."
Jack blinks, taking a moment.
"The med student? Brother, maybe the MCI got to him. That shit was trial by fire, and the reality of what we do isn't for everyone. Maybe he's just taking some time, thinking about his options."
Robby nods, but Jack can tell he's not convinced.
Turns out, he's right not to be.
Jack has never seen Robby's face look as fucking haggard as it does when he takes Jack aside a few nights later, and breaks the news with as much gentleness as he's still got left in him.
Major traffic accident, car vs pedestrians. Multiple crushing injuries. They'd taken Whitaker to Presby because it was closer to the scene.
Amputation of Whitaker's left leg. Below the knee, Jack hears Robby say, and he knows realistically that it's a good thing. Lucky.
He can't bring himself to say it out loud, and neither can Robby.
---
The decision to take Whitaker under his wing is made without much conscious effort from Jack. It happens like a simple math problem, the outcome consistent and expected.
He goes to visit the kid at Presby, doesn't get offended when he has to introduce himself and then jog the kid's memory about where they've met before.
He lets the kid be numb, then sad, then angry, then sad again. He drives him to the support groups, and lets the kid be bitterly jealous over Jack's control of a vehicle.
"You'll have this again. But in the meantime you get to be pissed about it."
He gets his care transferred over to PTMC, and promises the kid that the ortho and rehab teams won't go spreading rumours or talking about him to his colleagues.
"They're not even my colleagues anymore."
"Hate to break it to you kid, but those pricks are persistent, and most of them have made a real nice ass groove for themselves in that department. Like it or not, those fuckers will be waiting for you when you get back. Robby's practically salivating."
Jack snorts, and tries to hold back another one at the kid's angry, puffed-up kitten scowl.
Jack knows this whole process well enough to know that the uptick of the corner of Dennis' mouth is a win.
He takes the kid to hydrotherapy, and he pulls some strings so that their first session is just the two of them, gently splashing around in the pool. Jack's not a physiotherapist, but he does understand the tightness around Dennis' eyes at the thought of exposing his new body to yet another perfect stranger.
He stands in the water and holds his arms out, waiting patiently for Dennis to be ready. Lets the kid cling to his arms, huffs a quiet laugh at the small sound he makes the instant he's submerged in the warm water.
"Yeah? Takes away some of that aching, huh?"
Dennis nods, quiet in the way that someone is when they're surprised that a promise has been kept. Jack slowly inches backwards in the water, only a couple of inches, stops when Dennis makes a gutteral, unsteady sound.
"I got you, I got you." The kid's fingers are leaving livid white marks on his biceps, but that's not important. "I'm not gonna let you fall. You remember what we talked about before? About what to do if you start to overbalance?"
"I know how to swim. I lost a leg, not my memory."
"Oh yeah?" Jack grins, gently bobs them both a little in the water. "Well if you remember how to swim, and you remember your piss-poor attitude, why don't you stop doing your best bubble impression and take some baby steps for me?"
Dennis scowls, and the indignation and curiosity almost cancels out his hesitation and fear.
"Shut up. What the hell does that even mean?"
Jack is so very glad he asked.
"Your bubble impression?" He shrugs, deliberately looking away from Denns' legs making their first hesitant shuffles. "Floating there looking pretty, but not doing much else."
"Oh, fuck you."
He's there when Dennis gets his first prosthesis, ready to catch him when the inevitable frustration and disappointment set in at the realisation that the freedom of mobility doesn't come without adjustments.
"Dennis. Look at me." The kid's face is blotchy and red, and he's been studiously avoiding Jack's eyes ever since they got back.
"It's okay to be frustrated. I know it hurts. It's a completely new piece of equipment being attached to a part of your body that never expected to have this attached. There's new pressure, new sensations, and it's all happening to new, sensitive skin, and muscle and bone that are still adjusting. Give yourself some grace, kid."
"I'm - I'm lucky to have this." Dennis spits out. That word again, the tricky sticking point that even Jack never quite got to grips with. "I shouldn't be complaining. There are people far worse off than me."
Jack hums, handing Dennis the antibac wipes and offering no further guidance on cleaning.
"Sure. There are definitely people who are worse off." He sees Dennis' head jerk upwards, finally gets that eye contact he'd been chasing.
"But I'm not talking to them, I'm talking to you. Other people have it worse, and you've still been dealt a shitty hand right now. Both things can be true. You're lucky to have access to the prosthesis and the rehab teams. This -" he gently pats the prosthetic limb like it has its own nerves "-is going to be the thing that gives you your freedom and mobility back. But right now, it's new and it hurts, and it'll take adjustment. Both things can be true."
He shows Dennis his own prosthesis, his own stump, and how the two work together. He was surprised at how intimate and vulnerable it felt, letting Dennis see him remove his leg and care for his stump at the end of a long shift. He was interested by his own tenderness at the process, as he'd long thought he was over any feelings of particular vulnerability where observation was concerned.
But he shared all the small things he'd learned over the years with Dennis. All the little things that nobody without a prosthesis could possibly be expected to know, despite their qualifications, because they were the kind of things you only learnt by living it. He softened when he saw Dennis' face set in such concentration as he told him about tips for dealing with hot weather, felt something in him ache a little tenderly at the expression on the kid's face when Jack talked openly about the need for hygiene and the reality of 12-hour shifts and sweat and residual limb care.
He was there the first time he saw it in Dennis' face; the realisation that different did not negate okay. He was there when the kid met with Robby (and really, it was supposed to be a meeting with administration first, but Jack wasn't stupid) to discuss returning for the rest of his rotation.
He was definitely there when the kid started to look at him with something dangerously close to admiration and worship and - if Robby was to be believed - little tiny hearts in his eyes.
"He's too fucking young for me."
"He's twenty six."
"Too. Fucking. Young. He's all caught up with looking at me as his saviour right now."
"Pretty sure he's seen you at your least glamourous. I don't know if you think you've been some kind of perfect, Florence Nightingale figure with endless pools of patience and grace, but let me tell you that you've been cranky, difficult, downright fucking belligerent, and I've heard you tell the worst fucking jokes in your reportoire. The kid still laughs at them and gives you cow eyes."
Something something... Marine biologist!Robby who works on merman/mermaid research and Jack as the geumpy old merman with a torn fin from a boat accident who has been in Robby's care for like 15+ years.
Jack has a beautiful bay to swim in now that is still safe as he isnt so fast anymore with his injury, and Robby lives in a cottage next to the bay and keeps an eye on Jack while working other projects and he makes qay too many jokes about how they are growing old together.
He is also very aware that Jack sees him as mate, that the shells and rocks and fish he brings Robby is courting behavior and okay maybe they make out on the regular but like... for science, yeah?
Then either Dennis joins as student and Robby is a little jealous Jack seems to like the kid so much and is quite easy around him (aka not as much of a grumpy ol' fish) but Dennis is a good student who clearly cares as much about merman wellbeing as Robby.
Alternatively, Dennis is a young merman found malnourished and tangled in fishing nets and after the main merman population in the rehab facility was pushing him around too much, Robby decides to bring him to Jack's bay.
Jack complaining very loudly about having to share his bay but when robby says he will relocate Dennis then, Jack is quick to argue it would be too stressful and he better stay... he secretly loves having the younger's company and is vedy set on "fattening the kid back up"
And then smthn smthn smthn... turns out Dennis can get pregnant and is carrying Jack's guppy now
Something something... Marine biologist!Robby who works on merman/mermaid research and Jack as the geumpy old merman with a torn fin from a boat accident who has been in Robby's care for like 15+ years.
Jack has a beautiful bay to swim in now that is still safe as he isnt so fast anymore with his injury, and Robby lives in a cottage next to the bay and keeps an eye on Jack while working other projects and he makes qay too many jokes about how they are growing old together.
He is also very aware that Jack sees him as mate, that the shells and rocks and fish he brings Robby is courting behavior and okay maybe they make out on the regular but like... for science, yeah?
Then either Dennis joins as student and Robby is a little jealous Jack seems to like the kid so much and is quite easy around him (aka not as much of a grumpy ol' fish) but Dennis is a good student who clearly cares as much about merman wellbeing as Robby.
Alternatively, Dennis is a young merman found malnourished and tangled in fishing nets and after the main merman population in the rehab facility was pushing him around too much, Robby decides to bring him to Jack's bay.
Jack complaining very loudly about having to share his bay but when robby says he will relocate Dennis then, Jack is quick to argue it would be too stressful and he better stay... he secretly loves having the younger's company and is vedy set on "fattening the kid back up"
And then smthn smthn smthn... turns out Dennis can get pregnant and is carrying Jack's guppy now
The man standing in front of him, balancing on his crutches with his chin lifted and his eyes dark.
"Come on Honey, you said you couldn't take the burn anymore. Go ahead, I'll let you shave it. Hell, I'll walk you through it."
"When I said that, I expected my loving and respectful boyfriend to shave himself." Dennis pointed out, looking down at the bowl in his hands that Jack had instructed him how to do.
Jack snickered quietly, and looked around the bathroom "Respectful? I don't see Robby here?"
Dennis rolled his eyes at him.
The entire situation was reminiscent of watching his own father in the bathroom when his stubble got too long for his mother, a dizzying feeling of both understanding and disbelief clouding him briefly.
For all Jack's stubble rubbed his skin red and raw, he couldn't ever hate it that much.
Really and truly, he just needed a break for a few days.
Only Jack had told him "up" like he was patting the bed for the family dog, and up he popped onto the bathroom counter. Being verbally directed how to prepare the frothy and thick pomade. He grumbled a bit and lifted his hand to begin smoothing it over his boyfriends bristly jaw.
"Mhmm, just like that baby." Jack murmured once he finished, nodding to the counter top "pick up the razor next."
Dennis gave it a slightly nervous look, picking it up and opening his mouth to ask "Uh, are you sure you want me that close to your throat with a straight razor?"
"I have good faith in my little boy, hes in med school ain't he? It's good training to keep your hands still, now keep it at a fourty-five degree angle."
Ignoring the sudden brushing of heat along his belly, Dennis did as he said, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he dragged the blade down. Leaving fresh, smooth skin in it's wake, he found himself relaxing in the even, downward strokes across Jack's face.
The older man's eyes shown with mirth, never leaving Den's face even to look at the job he was doing in the mirror behind him.
He let Dennis turn his face this way and that way to get all angles of his jaw, and even tipped his head back to feel the Dennis kiss his neck through sharp steel.
Being this close to Jack, having his boyfriends face in his hands as well the warmth emanating from his body between them, it all felt very intimate in a way Dennis didn't think he could explain right now. Though that didn't stop his cheeks from flushing, something he had zero chance of hiding from the other man right now.
A hot puff of air fanned over his face when Jack noticed, laughing slightly at him.
"Is this doing it for you Sweetpea?"
"It's just..nice, I like it, okay?" He managed to get out.
Jack just hummed knowingly, falling quiet to let him finish.
Once all his skin was smooth, Dennis checked over by turning his head back and forth. Finding it acceptable, he nodded and let go with a smile.
"There! Done."
"Welll, maybe you should do this for me more often Den. This is a clean fuckin' shave," Jack spoke while looking over his shoulder, a low whistle of appreciation escaping his chest.
Dennis couldn't help beaming, before he replied "maybe I will, less raw skin for a few days!"
Jack snorted.
"A few days? Try one. This'll grow back by sun set."
The man standing in front of him, balancing on his crutches with his chin lifted and his eyes dark.
"Come on Honey, you said you couldn't take the burn anymore. Go ahead, I'll let you shave it. Hell, I'll walk you through it."
"When I said that, I expected my loving and respectful boyfriend to shave himself." Dennis pointed out, looking down at the bowl in his hands that Jack had instructed him how to do.
Jack snickered quietly, and looked around the bathroom "Respectful? I don't see Robby here?"
Dennis rolled his eyes at him.
The entire situation was reminiscent of watching his own father in the bathroom when his stubble got too long for his mother, a dizzying feeling of both understanding and disbelief clouding him briefly.
For all Jack's stubble rubbed his skin red and raw, he couldn't ever hate it that much.
Really and truly, he just needed a break for a few days.
Only Jack had told him "up" like he was patting the bed for the family dog, and up he popped onto the bathroom counter. Being verbally directed how to prepare the frothy and thick pomade. He grumbled a bit and lifted his hand to begin smoothing it over his boyfriends bristly jaw.
"Mhmm, just like that baby." Jack murmured once he finished, nodding to the counter top "pick up the razor next."
Dennis gave it a slightly nervous look, picking it up and opening his mouth to ask "Uh, are you sure you want me that close to your throat with a straight razor?"
"I have good faith in my little boy, hes in med school ain't he? It's good training to keep your hands still, now keep it at a fourty-five degree angle."
Ignoring the sudden brushing of heat along his belly, Dennis did as he said, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he dragged the blade down. Leaving fresh, smooth skin in it's wake, he found himself relaxing in the even, downward strokes across Jack's face.
The older man's eyes shown with mirth, never leaving Den's face even to look at the job he was doing in the mirror behind him.
He let Dennis turn his face this way and that way to get all angles of his jaw, and even tipped his head back to feel the Dennis kiss his neck through sharp steel.
Being this close to Jack, having his boyfriends face in his hands as well the warmth emanating from his body between them, it all felt very intimate in a way Dennis didn't think he could explain right now. Though that didn't stop his cheeks from flushing, something he had zero chance of hiding from the other man right now.
A hot puff of air fanned over his face when Jack noticed, laughing slightly at him.
"Is this doing it for you Sweetpea?"
"It's just..nice, I like it, okay?" He managed to get out.
Jack just hummed knowingly, falling quiet to let him finish.
Once all his skin was smooth, Dennis checked over by turning his head back and forth. Finding it acceptable, he nodded and let go with a smile.
"There! Done."
"Welll, maybe you should do this for me more often Den. This is a clean fuckin' shave," Jack spoke while looking over his shoulder, a low whistle of appreciation escaping his chest.
Dennis couldn't help beaming, before he replied "maybe I will, less raw skin for a few days!"
Jack snorted.
"A few days? Try one. This'll grow back by sun set."
Jack goes back to find Dennis the next day, and he only feels minor guilt at doing it while Robby's sleeping in.
He left a note, and he doesn't think Robby is particularly in the headspace to go back down to the floors hosting the showrooms. It had taken Jack two hours of soothing as the man railed about how wrong and filthy the whole hybrid trade was, before Robby would even consider going to bed.
Jack also knew the guilt that plagued him, because he felt the same snagging, loose thread in his own chest when he thought about the cheerful wag of Dennis' tail slowing and the happy light in his eyes dimming as they walked away from him with no warning and what must have been a horrible demeanour. Poor kid probably thinks he did something wrong.
He could see the desire to fix, to placate and soothe in Robby's eyes. But he knew the man all too well, and he could read in the set of his jaw and the furrow to his brow that voluntarily submerging himself in the noise and smell and swirling chaos of the showroom wouldn't end the way that Robby would want it to.
So he took it upon himself to weave through the relative quiet of the early-morning start-up buzz, until he found his way back to the booths where his eyes had originally caught on Dennis.
For some reason, he was surprised to find the kid there. There was a lurching feeling behind his ribs, like hope suddenly slamming into the place where disappointment had been presumptuously residing. He was so sure that yesterday had been an opportunity passing them by in real time.
"Oh my - you're back! Hi!"
Christ, the absolute uncomplicated delight in the kid's voice momentarily robbed Jack of his own. All he could do was give Dennis his best smile as he approached, taking the time to try to gather himself and find his voice and the words he hadn't bothered to think about.
"Hey, buddy. Yeah, I'm back - was kinda hoping I'd find you again. Was worried you might be done with the circuit by now."
Dennis beamed at him, the force of his tail wags making his whole lower body wiggle. Jack felt his lips twitch in a kind of helpless, happy sympathy.
"Oh, no - this sort of thing usually lasts a few weeks."
Jack obviously did a poor job at hiding his surprise because Dennis giggled.
"I mean, there are competitions and all, and that's fun, but it's not really why most of them come here." At Jack's blank, wary look, Dennis cocked his head and smiled, leaning in a little, and this time there was something about the tilt of his lips that was different. Like looking at a flower whose edges were just starting to brown and wilt.
"It's a time where almost all of the high-profile owners and breeders are together in one place, with their - with us. They trade, they buy and sell. They, um - well, you know."
Jack did not know, and for a moment all he could do was try to look encouraging and open while Dennis' face flushed.
The words from Dennis' handler yesterday pierced through his skull, echoing as clearly as if the man was shouting it into his ear, some kind of vulgar, shrieking ghost at the feast.
"Denny's fit for breeding and his owner is considering offers."
The effort to control the twist of his face - to match the one in his stomach - was like stifling a sneeze on the highway. He wanted nothing more than to react with the full force of his body's horror, to purge the concept like bad food sitting, rotting in his stomach.
Instead, he forced himself to draw his training around himself like a shield, like a set of well-worn scrubs, as he gentled his voice and set his face into something as mild and soft as his racing pulse could manage.
"Of course. I'm sorry, Dennis, I should have remembered. We don't have to talk about that if you don't want to."
Dennis smiled, but it looked like he was dredging it up from somewhere sticky and cloying.
"Or - or if you have any questions." Jack was blurting out before he could even think about it, the impulse so fresh that the other half of his brain barely has time to hope he's not fucking this up or scaring Dennis. "I'm a doctor. Emergency medicine - I'm not a hybrid specialist, but I could still help...make things a little less confusing. If you haven't - I mean, if nobody has explained this to you before."
Christ, he really should have brought Robby with him.
"I've never been covered, if that's what you mean." Dennis is cocking his head up at Jack, so openly enquiring - even with a little bit of a giggle playing at his words at Jack's bashfulness - that his heart aches a little. "I've been away from all that until now. My owner kind of - I don't know, I think they kinda liked having me around, just with them."
There's a quiet, gentle pride there, but as Dennis speaks Jack can see that it's bruised, the damage fresh. Dennis swallows around the words that might have wanted to come after that confession, and as he looks back up at Jack, suddenly appraising, his tail starts to wag.
"But you're a doctor? That's so cool!"
Jack tries to pull his own smile out of his own mire of sticky, dark thoughts, and is pleasantly surprised to find that even after all this time, that tiny flicker of pride at being able to call himself doctor still sparks.
It makes it slightly easier to meet the fascinated sparkle in Dennis' eyes with something real.
"Yeah. Me and Robby - my husband, the man I was with yesterday? We both work in Pittsburgh, in an emergency department. We're only here because there's a medical conference going on upstairs, and sometimes part of the job is being forced to fly to a different city and sit in a room filled with your least favourite people, listening to them talk about your least favourite topics."
Dennis giggled, and his ears twitched like Jack's words had physically tickled something.
"I'm willing to bet there's more hissing, spitting, and fur flying at medical conferences than there is at one of these things." Jack nods his head to encompass their surroundings. "You wouldn't believe how bitchy it can get in clinical academia. Personally, I always think it's a sign of too much time on too many hands."
He puts up both palms and wiggles them in a little jazz hands motion before he can think better of it. He takes a second to thank god that the interns and medical students weren't here to see it - they already give him enough shit for being a boomer, which he has tried to explain many times is patently untrue, but maybe he brings it on himself with shit like this.
Dennis seems to like it though, laughing a genuine and honestly kind of goofy little laugh which makes Jack's own smile start to ache.
"I always thought that doctos were mature, serious people." Dennis volunteers, giving Jack a look that practically twinkles and a little twist of his lips that speaks of trouble. Jack solemnly shakes his head.
"We're all overgrown children with bloated egos and fragile self-esteem. Present company excluded, of course."
"Oh, of course!" Dennis chitters, ears smoothing back earnestly. "You've only been standing here complaining about how all your colleagues are mean and boring. Very mature, super stoic."
The laughter that bubbles out of him is louder than he'd expected, and he ducks his head and tucks his hands in his pockets while he gets it under control. There are little plumes of soft, golden fur drifting in the air around them, because Dennis' tail is wagging so hard.
"You want to see what I get up to at my...'conferences'?" Dennis asks, clearly brimming with excitement and wiggling on his perch.
For the first time, Jack really takes note of what he's wearing. It's an odd, plain white garment, almost shift-like. It's neither baggy nor clingy, instead it seems to drape over the outline of Dennis' body gently, like water. There are strange ties all along the side, almost like you might find on a hospital gown. He blinks, clears the thought from his head at the sight of Dennis' tilted head and eagerly-waiting gaze.
"Hell yeah, buddy, show me what you got."
Dennis makes an odd sound, halfway between a yip and an exhalation of air, shoving himself off his seat and gesturing Jack closer into his little booth. He turns a little display board so it's in Jack's line of sight, and he can see that it's festooned with bright, silky ribbons in every colour and shade imaginable. They all have gold or silver writing stitched in, proclaiming Dennis either first or second place in the 'companion' category.
Jack digs his thumbnail into his palm so hard he feels a slight tackiness start to bead at the nail, but his smile remains firmly in place while Dennis intently studies his face, so the pain in his hand doesn't even matter.
"Holy shit, Dennis, this is all you?" It's a stupid, pointless question, but Dennis is beaming and his tail is wagging as he nods, so once again Jack decides that nothing else matters. "Damn, this is quite the impressive collection. So you're kind of a star, huh?"
That giggle again, although this time it's interrupted by the bustling, harried approach of the man from yesterday, Dennis' so-called 'handler.'
"I'm so sorry - oh, it's you." The man stops short a little even as he fusses at Dennis, urging him to stand and turn even as the man addresses Jack with an expression that's hard to read. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure you'd be back after yesterday."
Jack shrugs, stares back unblinkingly, not willing to offer the standard social niceties about a fake urgent appointment.
"Denny, for - please try to keep your ears still before we go out there. You manage to get all kinds of knots and crinkles in them."
The man picks up a comb and starts worrying at the long, curly strands of fur at the very base of Dennis' ears. Dennis winces at the tug, but smiles at Jack despite the man's sweaty fussing.
The strands look impossibly soft, and Jack wants to twist the curls around his finger and make them more pronounced, even as the comb straightens them out.
"Look, we're just about to go out on the floor, they're calling Dennis' number." The man throws over his shoulder at Jack. "You're welcome to stay and watch, but if you want to pick up where we left off yesterday you'll need to come back on Saturday. We've got appointments immediately after this - well, that's what we're hoping for, isn't it Denny?"
The man gives Dennis a jovial little shove and pat, and Dennis smiles up at him, nodding along, but the smile dips and wavers at the corners and his tail only twitches minutely. He darts a quick glance at Jack, who feels his thumb dig even deeper into the cresent-shaped wound he's making.
He opens his mouth to say something, but the handler is setting down the comb with a sharp, metallic clink and ushering Dennis away from his booth before Jack can even process what is happening.
He sees Dennis glance back over his shoulder as he's tugged away towards the show area, and he tries to school his face into an expression that is reassuring despite the fact that he has none to offer.
Dennis smiles back at him anyway, although his ears remain, as per instruction, perfectly still.
------
Jack follows Dennis and his handler as far as he can before he reaches an area his presence will clearly not be tolerated in, at which point he turns on his heel and finds himself a space at the small 'arena' area that has been cordoned off by a ring of boards with advertising and sponsorship logos splashed all over them. He takes up his post, bracing against the boards with his forearms and prepares to wait. It's at least a relief to be able to take a little weight off his leg, which is starting to protest the heat of the showroom.
He's surpised that he doesn't have to wait long at all, as Dennis' handler enters the show arena at an awkward pace halfway between a power walk and a jog, looking like it's uncomfortable to keep up.
Dennis trots along easily and gracefully at his side, looking like he would happily break into a full run but is locking the desire down tightly.
Someone, somewhere is droning on in an irritatingly loud voice, presumably saying things about Dennis that barely register with Jack, but which he recognises as show language that he wouldn't understand.
What he does understand, is when a two men in smart suits join Dennis and his handler on the floor of the arena, and start touching Dennis.
They greet the handler first, with polite smiles, which he returns stiltedly. The man in charge, clearly some kind of judge based on the uneasy deference the handler is showing him, says nothing to Dennis as he puts both hands on his face and pries open his mouth.
The lines of Dennis' body remain remarkably relaxed, in sharp contrast to Jack's, which has tightened every muscle capable of doing so.
The judge tilts Dennis' head this way and that, runs a finger inside his mouth along his teeth, making Jack clench his own. He runs his hand briskly over Dennis' beautiful soft ears, tugging and turning them to peer inside and then giving him a rough pat in reward. He is quick and far too careless with his hands, considering the effort that had been put into making Dennis look so perfect.
He runs his hand down Dennis' back and grabs his tail at the base, and for some reason Jack can feel something ugly and heavy settling in his stomach, can feel his palms dampening and his pulse starting to pick up a sickly rhythm.
The man pulls Dennis' tail this way and that, ruffling his fingers through the fur. Then he fetches something from his pocket, and Jack's heart and stomach both lurch sickeningly as he takes in the two things that happen next.
One, is that Jack finds out why there were side-ties to the garment that Dennis was wearing, as the man assisting the judge runs his finger down them and unties them with a deftness that makes Jack swallow down something thick and dreadful. The garment hangs loosely on Dennis for a moment before the man tugs it swiftly off without a second thought, leaving Dennis completely naked under the harsh arena lighting. There is no rustle of surprise or discomfort in the audience around him, and Jack wants to shake people, grip all the unfazed faces around him and yell and shout until something moves them.
The second thing that happens, is that Jack sees what the judge was removing from his pocket.
Gloves. Blue, sterile gloves, the same as the hundreds of thousands of pairs that Jack has worn himself over the years.
Jack feels like something large and cold has him in his jaws as his entire body freezes up as he watches the judge immediately reach between Dennis' legs. He pats his thigh once, at which Dennis spreads them just a little, and even reaches out to steady himself on the arm his handler has presented him for support. He bends at the waist slightly.
The judge grips Dennis' genitals like they're nothing more than clay replicas, carelessly and quickly squeezing penis and testicles, before dipping further back to touch his omega anatomy.
He spends far more time there. Jack isn't sure whether to feel grateful or cowardly for the fact that he can't see anything more than the man's hand working mechanically between Dennis' thighs. Dennis' face is blank and unmoving as the man's knuckles disappear and his wrist moves quickly and carelessly.
Jack's not sure how long it lasts, but he's had traumas go south that felt like they went quicker than this.
When the judge removes his hand, wetness glints off the blue glove before it is quickly removed and disposed of. He smiles and shakes hands with Dennis' handler, whose shoulders relax and who returns the smile more genuinely than he had previously.
He gives Dennis a pat on the stomach before resuming that awkward walk-jog out of the arena, Dennis following sedately behind.
Jack stalks along the edge of the advertising border, keeps his eyes locked on Dennis as he exits the show area and into a 'backstage' area only vaguely separated from the rest of the room by larger advertising banners.
He doesn't take his eyes off Dennis until he's gently rebuffed by someone wearing the dark colours of event security.
"I'm sorry, sir - do you have an appointment?"
"What?" He barely spares the security a glance as he scans over their shoulder, desperately trying to keep track of Dennis. He thinks he sees a flash of those reddish-blond curls, but they're getting lost in a sea of other faces and bodies.
"You need to be a pre-approved breeder to access this part of the event, sir." The worst part is that this man looks like he genuinely doesn't want to be breaking this news to Jack.
He fishes around for something to use, some trump card to play.
"I was speaking to Dennis' handler yesterday - I have an alpha I want to stud. He told me Dennis' owner was considering offers."
He sends up some silent plea for forgiveness for even thinking the words, let alone saying them out loud like they were reasonable and didn't leave the back of his teeth feeling sticky.
The man glances down, makes a poor attempt at schooling his own expression before he sighs.
"Look, unless your name is on this list, I can't let you back there. They have appointments booked out for the next three days. Come back on Saturday."
Jack's palm is sticky with a mixture of tacky blood and fresh sweat. It's been a long time since he's felt so fucking helpless.
Summary: A prison outreach program puts Andrew "Pope" Cody into contact with a half-brother he didn't know he had. Three years later, Julia Cody is dead and Jack Abbot and his partner attend her funeral.
Warnings: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Homophobia
Relationships: Jack Abbot & Andrew "Pope" Cody, Jack Abbot/Michael "Robby" Robinavitch
Also on AO3!
Dear Jack,
My name is Andrew Cody. I’m currently serving time in Folsom State Prison for bank robbery. I have to disclose that. I've done some bad things in my life, but I'm turning it around. They have a program here that helps connect inmates with family. They told me about you.
I'm your half-brother.
I'd like to get to know you.
Signed,
Andrew Cody
Three years later
It was hot. Swelteringly. Neither Jack or Robby were equipped to handle the searing heat of the southern California sun on the best of days. The A/C unit in their hotel room was working overtime and not helping much. The addition of a full suit and tie only made it more unbearable.
The only consolation for Robby was the reminder of how good Jack looked in his dress clothes. So good, in fact, that he had to remind himself what they were getting dressed for.
A funeral.
“This is going to be a little tricky,” Jack explained while tying Robby’s tie. “Julia and Andrew’s family are… difficult people, from what he’s told me. Best case scenario: we pay our respects, maybe take Andrew out for lunch, and then high tail it back to Pittsburgh.”
Robby raised an eyebrow. “And worst case scenario?”
Jack pursed his lips, not meeting his eye. “I'm not sure,” he responded after a moment.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of a slightly-clammy hand on his cheek. Robby’s eyes had softened as he looked down at the younger man.
“We’ll get through it,” he reassured. “Together.”
Jack nodded. “Together,” he vowed quietly before patting Robby’s tie onto his chest.
----
The ride to the cemetery had been quiet. Jack drove the rental car effortlessly through the streets of Oceanside; drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the classic rock station playing softly from the radio. Robby couldn't help but marvel at how serene he looked.
On the inside, Robby knew, Jack was a wreck. His sister, one that he never got to meet in person, was dead. He had missed his chance to save her. Robby had seen the devastation first hand when Jack had gotten the call from Andrew the night before. It was the first time he’d seen the man cry since his wife had died three years earlier.
But now here he was, solid as a rock as he drove them to the cemetery to lay one family member to rest and finally meet the others in the flesh.
It hadn't been hard to find the plot; the cemetery had been nearly empty save for the two groups of people on the sides of the raised casket. Robby heard Jack’s breath hitch as he parked the car. He put his hand on his partner’s thigh.
“You're sure you want to do this?” Robby asked, giving him one last chance to back out. “No one will judge you if you want to turn back now. They don't need to know that we were here.”
Jack shook his head before letting out his breath. “We came all this way,” he replied quietly. “I can do this.”
Robby gave him a sad smile before nodding. “Okay. Let's go. I’ll follow your lead, Dr. Abbot.”
The title was enough to make Jack roll his eyes, the barest hint of a smile ghosting over his lips. Robby gave him a smirk before leaning over and giving him a brisk kiss.
There was a tension in the air around Julia’s casket that Jack could only equate to the quiet moment before gun fire erupted. The two groups of people were glaring daggers at each other over the coffin.
“Those are the Codys,” Jack whispered, crossing his arms as they posted up on the other side of the parcel of land. “Not sure who the other people are though.”
The two of them watched as some sort of quiet argument broke out between the two groups. Robby zeroed in on the older Cody woman and the two kids next to her. There was no mistaking the young man standing at her side as Julia’s son; the resemblance to Jack was uncanny. But not as uncanny as the man standing in the middle of the group.
He stood ramrod straight, staring intensely at the casket in front of him. It was one thing to see the man in pictures, but seeing Andrew Cody in the flesh made Robby feel like he was seeing double.
“God your father must have had some strong genetics,” Robby commented softly. Jack didn't react, his eyes locked on the family he barely knew.
As if he could sense Jack’s stare, Andrew’s eyes snapped up to lock with his brother’s. If he could tense up anymore, he would have. His jaw clenched so hard that it hurt Robby to look at.
Jack swallowed nervously, giving the man across the way a small nod in recognition.
“Who the fuck is that?”
It wasn't yelled, but it was loud enough for Robby and Jack to hear when one of the other Cody boys interrupted the silence. They hadn't noticed the other group of people leaving; the cemetery now empty save for Jack, Robby, and the Codys.
“I think we've been made,” Robby attempted to joke. He couldn't help the small waiver in his voice; Jack’s anxiety was contagious. The taller man gave his partner’s shoulder a squeeze before they made their way to the inevitable confrontation.
Jack ignored the rest of the Codys, making a beeline for the man in the middle of the pack. Before Andrew could react, he was enveloped in a hug from his older brother.
“I should've told you I was coming,” Jack mumbled, “I'm sorry.”
Andrew pulled away, a look of disbelief on his face and the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “I didn’t think you would come.”
Jack pursed his lips like he had in the car. “I had to come. I failed Julia; I'm not going to fail you too.”
Andrew was speechless; stuck staring at the man in front of him like it was a portal to an alternate reality where he wasn't completely fucked up.
“Pope, what the fuck is going on,” a voice knocked the two men out of their heads and Jack dropped his hands before stepping back to take in the rest of the Codys. Behind him, Robby stood strong, waiting to follow where Jack would lead. His gaze however, was glued to the matriarch of the house, whose face had gone from looking like she had seen a ghost to anger and back to grieving mother in barely a second.
The two younger Cody brothers were looking at Andrew expectantly, but it was Andrew’s mother who spoke up.
“Boys, this is Julie and Pope’s half-brother.” she explained, garnering looks of shock from everyone at the graveside, including Jack, Robby, and Andrew. As far as any of them knew, she hadn’t known about Jack. She crossed her arms at their incredulous glares. “I keep track of my boys and their families.”
There was a brief moment of silence. Robby caught the side eye that Andrew’s mom threw at the other woman that was with them. There was a tension there that he didn't have any plans of getting between.
“You knew?”
The silence was broken by Andrew. His ears had gone red, and it wasn't because of the sun. His mother approached him and cradled his face in her hands.
“I'm sorry baby,” she cooed, “I should have told you.”
“Can someone just explain what the fuck is going on? Smurf?” a dark haired man demanded. Robby didn't recognize him from any of the pictures he had seen, but he was obviously part of the family in some way.
Smurf dropped her hands and turned to Jack and Robby. “I think we should have a conversation. Why don't you two come back to the house and we can talk there? I'll make dinner.” Her smile was sickly sweet. It made Jack’s stomach turn.
Jack’s mouth was glued shut as he glared daggers into the older woman. Deciding it was time, Robby stepped in.
“I think that's a good idea. We’ll follow you.” He said, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“No, I want a fucking explanation now,” the dark haired man said, stepping up to Jack.
Andrew was quick to move between them, shoving the other man back harshly. Robby caught the way Jack’s hand flinched towards his waist band, where he knew there was an army-issued K-Bar tucked out of sight. He had been surprised when Jack had packed it in their suitcase, but with how the situation in front of them was panning out, he was glad he didn't push it.
“Don't fucking touch him Baz.” Andrew nearly growled.
Jack sighed, moving back to stand side-by-side with Robby.
“My name is Jack Abbot,” he announced, “Before Andrew and Julia’s dad knocked Janine up, he left my mom with me, making me their half-brother.”
The taller of the younger Cody brothers stepped in. “Yea, we know what a fucking half-brother is. Who the fuck do you think you are coming here now?”
“I invited him.” Andrew interrupted. “Julia was his sister too.”
The dark haired man, Baz, shook his head. “Oh fuck this. Fuck this. Come on, Cath.”
He grabbed the woman by his side’s hand and stormed off.
“Come on,” Smurf said, that same sour smile on her face. “I'll make dinner and you boys can… catch up.”
Andrew gave Jack a look that reminded Robby of a kicked puppy. Jack put his hand on his shoulder.
“We’ll be right behind you, brother,” he reassured before turning to take Robby’s hand and head back towards the rental car.
As soon as they were out of ear shot, Jack sighed.
“Well… that went about as well as I could hope I guess.”
----------
Jack had looked danger in the eye. He knew its odor, its look, its feel, its taste. The smell of gunpowder, the sun reflecting off a sniper’s scope a thousand yards away, the grit of sand in his teeth, the taste of blood in his mouth. He did not balk then.
Janine Cody was a different kind of danger.
She was sickly sweet; soft edges concealing a blade so sharp that looking at it might blind you. She was the lioness that lay in wait beside the herd of antelope. She was the vulture circling a dying wolf.
And yet, there she was in the kitchen, forming hamburger patties while the Codys sat at the table outside. Deran and Craig, the two younger Cody brothers, had changed into swim trunks, while Andrew and Jay, Julia’s son (Jack’s nephew. He had a nephew) had changed into jeans and t shirts.
It made Robby and Jack stand out in their funeral attire. Jack couldn't help but think that was on purpose.
“So, what do you two do?” Deran asked,
as he took a swig of the beer in his hand. “You know, other than drop in unexpectedly”
Andrew kicked him under the table.
“We’re doctors,” Jack explained, looking between the men at the table. “Work at a trauma center.”
Craig’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh fuck. Like car accidents and stuff?”
Robby shrugged. “Car accidents, falls, stabbings, anything that would require a trip to the emergency room.”
“You never explained who you are,” Craig interrupted, staring at Robby expectantly.
Jack straightened up in his chair. He was far beyond the point of being ashamed of himself or his relationships, but he knew Robby wasn't as open with it as he was.
“Jack’s my partner,” Robby explained, giving the younger Cody a challenging look. When he saw Jack’s surprised expression, he let a hand drift to the other man’s thigh. “What? They're your family. They should know.”
The two attendings shared a tender moment before Andrew spoke up.
“It's good to finally put a face to the name.”
Robby smiled at Andrew. They had spoken briefly over the phone when Jack had put them on speaker together. He couldn't help but want to help the man, even if he wasn't Jack’s brother.
“And you're sure that you're not like… a triplet?” Craig asked, leaning forward to study the doctor.
Jack smirked. “I'm five years older,” he explained. “Or else, I might be convinced myself.”
That drew a dry chuckle from Andrew before he leaned back. He had a beer as well, but it sat in front of him, untouched.
“I found out about Jack in Folsom,” he explained gruffly, crossing his arms. “There was a family outreach program there, put inmates in contact with family they might not know about. I sent a letter, Jack sent one back.”
“So now what, you're just buddies with him, Pope?” Deran asked. He kept looking between the two doctors awkwardly with a look that Robby could have misconstrued as anger.
Jack’s lip twitched. Robby squeezed his thigh again.
“I'd been planning on coming out here when Andrew got out,” Jack explained. “Finding out about Julia… there was a bit more urgency.”
“Did you know my mom?”
Jack's gaze fell to Jay, who had been sitting off to the side, nursing a beer. Jack had half a mind to comment on his age and the legality of it, but he held his tongue. From what Andrew had explained, underage drinking was the least of the Codys’ worries.
He gave the young man a sad smile. “We talked a couple times,” he sighed. “I tried to reach out, but…”
Jay looked away. “Yeah.”
“I'm sorry kid,” Jack continued, “This can't be easy for you.”
The screen door to the kitchen opened, a slightly less pissed off looking Baz walking out.
“Yeah, well he's got family to support him.”
The yard went quiet.
“Jack, Robby, this is Baz.” Andrew said, his voice coming out a little more stilted than usual. “Baz, this is my half-brother Jack and his partner Robby.”
Baz scoffed. “Oh great, he's a fag.”
Before anyone else could blink, Andrew was in Baz’s face. He had one fist balled in Baz’s shirt collar while he slammed him in the wall of the house, the other cocked back and within a second, collided with Baz’s cheek bone.
Jack immediately followed, pulling Andrew off and away from the other man. Deran and Craig were at Baz’s side, holding him back from launching himself forward.
Baz spit on the ground, the saliva tinged with blood. A cruel sneer formed on his face. “That's the Pope I know.”
The screen door slammed shut.
All of the heads turned from the altercation towards the door, where Smurf was standing.
“He shouldn't be here, Smurf,” Baz argued, wrestling one arm free from Deran and Craig to point vicariously at Jack. “He's not a Cody.”
Andrew laughed; actually laughed. “That's fucking gold coming from the one other person here that is not a fucking Cody.”
“Enough! Both of you!” Smurf yelled. “Haven't you fought enough for one day? Jesus Christ.”
Jack felt Andrew flinch at Smurf’s voice. It only made him angrier to think of why.
“Baz, come back in here and help me with dinner. The rest of you, behave.”
Jack let go of Andrew, pausing to look down at his brother’s knuckles. Nothing looked broken; there would probably be bruising and the skin on one of his knuckles was split, but nothing serious.
“Jack, we should probably head back to the hotel,” Robby suggested, putting his hand on his back. Their welcome at the Cody house was running thin. “We've got an early flight tomorrow.”
Andrew looked at the two of them and once again, Robby was reminded of a kicked dog.
“You're leaving already?”
Robby watched Jack swallow, his Adam's Apple bobbing in his throat as he gave his brother a small nod. “I work tomorrow night and Robby works Monday morning,” he explained. “I'm sorry. I wish we could've stayed longer.”
Andrew’s puppy expression was schooled into something more guarded very quickly. It broke Robby’s heart to watch the walls go back up so quickly.
“Why don't you walk us out,” Robby suggested. His eyes flicked over to the rest of the Codys, who were watching the three of them like hawks.
Andrew nodded before silently leading the way out to the driveway. Robby’s hand moved from Jack’s back to find his hand. Jack squeezed it once, giving the other man a grateful look.
When they got to the rental car, Jack dropped Robby’s hand to fumble through his pockets for the key.
“It really was nice to finally meet you, kid.” Robby said, giving Andrew a sad smile. “It's too bad it was under-”
“Come back to Pittsburgh with us.”
Both Robby and Andrew looked to Jack with surprised expressions, Robby's more obvious than Andrew's. Jack looked deathly serious.
“We have a spare room,” he continued, “I’ll buy your plane ticket. Fuck, I'll buy you a new apartment if you want one.”
Andrew’s jaw clenched, his eyes flicking over to the house. Robby followed his gaze, meeting Smurf’s as she stared out the window at them.
“I can't,” Andrew responded after a moment. “I- I just can't. They're my family.”
Jack’s hands went to Andrew’s shoulders. The younger man flinched and Jack looked like he wanted to kill himself for it.
“You're my family too, Andrew.” Jack breathed, staring at him with wide eyes. “I lost Julia before I knew her. I can't lose you, too.”
Andrew’s jaw clenched so hard that Robby was afraid he'd break a tooth. Or his entire jaw bone.
“Maybe not now,” Robby offered, resting his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “But if anything happens, you come to us? To me and Jack.”
Andrew nodded, barely perceptible if you weren't watching for it.
“You should go,” he said, his voice breaking. “You have an early flight tomorrow.”
Defeated, Jack let his hands fall to his sides. He nodded. “Okay.” He sighed. “Okay, we’ll go.”
Andrew stood silently as he watched them get into the rental car. He wasn't sure he could feel his heart break even more than it already was after Julia, but when he met Jack’s eyes in the rear view mirror, he knew there were tears in his eyes too.
Werewolf dom/sub 'foster' au where newly-turned wolves must be placed in the care of an alpha who either leads their own pack, was born into it, or has simply been around and stabilised for long enough that they're respected in the community.
Human Robby who's aware that Jack has put in for some time off recently because he has been assigned a new wolf by the state. He feels vaguely ashamed that he hasn't been checking in as thoroughly as he should, but he has been finding time to message and ask Jack how his latest 'cub' is between shifts.
Jack's responses have always been that everything is going fine, it's an adjustment as usual, but nothing out of the ordinary. Robby feels like there's something that he's missing, some unspoken context lurking in bright white between the words. He presses Jack, but doesn't have as much time as he'd like to hunt down the trail that Jack isn't doing a great job of covering up.
One evening, just as he's clocking out, he gets a message from Jack that takes the guesswork out of it all.
Need your help with my puppy. He's struggling and he's a fucking handful and I gotta admit I'm not doing right by him. You free to help me out?
And there's only one answer Robby will ever give to Jack.
Always.
Robby hears the issue before he's even stepped into Jack's house.
Even through the closed door, he can hear Jack's footsteps approaching, and underneath that, a constant, fractious whining sound, interspersed with the sound of rhythmically-clanging metal.
"Brother, am I fucking glad to see you."
Jack leans heavily into Robby's embrace, and even to Robby's human nose he smells like sweat, exhaustion, and the slightly wheaty-milky smell that all newly-turned wolves have.
Robby follows Jack through the house and watches him flop on the couch with a sigh. Robby notices the fabric on the corners has been torn, and the wood underneath has been chewed into damp, splintered crescents.
The whines that have been drifting through the house suddenly pick up in their intensity, and Jack's eyes grow fond even through the exhaustion.
"Dennis, buddy, I'm right here. You're okay, I'll be with you in a minute."
Robby takes a seat next to Jack, allowing the warmth of their thighs to press against each other.
"Tell me what's happening, brother."
The whining in the next room pauses, chokes and grumbles into something wary, something warning. Jack opens his mouth, but Robby cuts him off.
"Ignore him, he'll be fine. You know he'll be fine. Let him cry for a minute, it won't hurt him. Tell me."
Jack sighs, scrubs a hand down his face.
"He's a sweet kid."
"That why your furniture's all chewed up?"
"He is a sweet kid. The furniture is chewed up because he's also a brat, he's scared, he's restless, and he's in pain. I also think he's - not particularly one of the lucky ones."
Robby ducked his head, curtailing some of the comments that had been tripping off the tip of his tongue, about Jack being a soft touch and thinking that all brats were sweet kids, even when sometimes a brat is just a brat.
Dennis being...unlucky changed things, just a little.
Sometimes, particularly if a turning is violent and traumatic, it can do more than just make a wolf of a man. Sometimes, the change can knock something off-kilter in both man and beast, and in the worst cases, loved ones have reported being barely able to recognise their person, even when they're not under the influence of the transformation.
"Did you know him before? What kind of severity are we looking at here?"
Jack shook his head, cast a quick glance back at the spare room, where the sounds have quieted to the gentle, metallic shuddering sounds of teeth gnawing on a cage.
"I didn't know him before, so it's not like I can comment on his baseline. It's more that I see something in him sometimes, and I know that's probably who he was before all this."
Robby leans over to press a hand to Jack's back, sweeping it up and down in broad strokes, daring once or twice to venture to the back of Jack's neck and squeeze comfortingly.
"Severity? Nothing too bad - he's not really aggressive, he's just...incredibly rambunctious, restless to the point where even he's frustrated with it, and he swings between wanting to take a bite out of me to being so incredibly clingy that I can't take a piss in peace."
Robby quirks a smile at that.
"Cute. Sounds like just another day at the office to me, Abbot." His lips twitch at Jack's snort, and he flicks his gaze to the spare room and the gnawing sounds.
"What are we today? Clingy, or bitey?"
"Can't a man have a bit of both?"
Robby rolls his eyes, jerks his head at Jack.
"Helpful. C'mon then, bring him out here and I'll take a look."
---
Jack is gone for longer than Robby had anticipated, and he hears the low, soothing rumble of his voice followed by the clink of a crate door being unlatched, and then the whining sounds from earlier return with a vengeance.
"Oh, I know, I know. There you go, you're okay, I'm back now. Come on, we're going to go through and meet a friend of mine."
Quiet, frantic chattering that Robby can't quite make out.
"Yes, I'm sure he'll like you, and I'm sure he'll want to be your friend too. But you have to be a good boy, because Robby only likes good boys."
Robby raises his eyebrows reflexively, barely has time to school his face and wipe the slight smirk off it before Jack rounds the corner, half-dragging Dennis behind him by a firm grip on the back of his neck.
"Dennis, this is my friend, Robby. Robby, this is Dennis."
Jack has to practically drag Dennis to sit on the couch with him, pulling him tightly to his side to try to contain some of the restless wiggling and attempts to climb into Jack's lap and seemingly directly into his skin.
"Hi Dennis. I know this must all be very confusing, and I know you're struggling, and I'm here to help with that. Jack's told me a little bit about you, but would you like to tell me about yourself?"
"No." Spat petulantly into Jack's neck, where Dennis is trying to hide himself. Jack's gaze hardens a little.
"Dennis. I told you, Robby is my friend, and he's trying to be yours. You will be polite."
Dennis whines like Jack has told him he can't have his favourite treat, and Robby finds himself ticking off all the relevant boxes in his head, and writing little notes in the imaginary margins.
He tilts his head, tries to make eye contact with Dennis, who only glares at him with one baleful eye, the other hidden in Jack's clavicle.
"Dennis, I think it's going to be a lot more helpful if you look at me and answer my questions. Can you do that?"
"Fuck off."
Jack looks like he's about to snap a reprimand, but Robby simply nods at Dennis, slow and calm, as if he's made a mildly interesting observation.
"Okay." Soft and gentle, voice pitched low as if to soothe. Robby makes eye contact with Jack, asking a question that doesn't need to be spoken between them. Jack nods in return, and Robby smiles.
He's standing almost as fast as a natural-born wolf, one hand closing on Dennis' scruff and the other on his wrist with practiced ease, and he hauls him off of Jack, manhandling him while he wails and writhes in his grip.
Those newly sharp teeth snap around the air where Robby's hand was, and Dennis grunts in surprise when Robby easily nudges the back of his knees and sends him toppling to the floor, bent and kneeling beside Robby's legs.
A sharp crack snaps through the air, and Dennis' startled cry is almost comically delayed. Robby's hand stays poised by Dennis' thigh, where it has just made a hard and sudden impact.
"You do not bite." Robby's other huge hand is clamped hard around Dennis' neck, and he shakes him by the scruff briefly for emphasis, jiggling a soft whine from Dennis in the process. Robby leans down to speak into Dennis' poor, red ear as the puppy flushes in shock and humiliation. His voice is like velvet, gentle and calm and slightly unsettling if it's rubbed the wrong way. "You do not bite me, and from now on you do not bite Jack unless I'm here to supervise your playtime. I can already see you've done damage to his furniture, but that stops now. Oh, I know, that's all very cruel, isn't it?"
Robby has slowly manipulated Dennis so his head is forced to lie on his knee. He can see the poor thing's eyes darting frantically towards Jack. He taps Dennis' thigh once more in warning, clicks his tongue.
"No, I'm talking to you now. You don't need to look at Jack, he's already put up with enough from you."
A choked whine with some real distress in it, and Robby lets his voice soften just a little.
"Don't work yourself up, he's not abandoning you and you're still his very sweet little puppy that he's very fond of. But you've been misbehaving - no, we don't need to hear any whining from you, thank you - so I'm going to help you be a good boy for Jack. Because I think that's what you want, isn't it? Just to be a good, sweet boy, am I right?"
Despite the shock still clouding his eyes and making his pulse flutter frantically at his throat, Dennis' body has started to unwind from its unbearable tightness as Robby's voice washes over him, and his head grows heavy as he settles, trance-like, further into Robby's lap and his hold. He nods, once, barely perceptible.
Jack smiles and Robby coos gently down at Dennis, who is aware on some level that this big, strange man is patronising him, but he just can't bring himself to wish that he'd stop. The words, the voice, they all drag him down to a place where the aches and pains and frantic, screaming new instincts in his body are all like distant, fading echoes in a dark place. It's peaceful here.
"Oh, what a good boy. See, we can be friends now, can't we?" Robby glances up at Jack, keeps one hand locked to the back of Dennis' neck and squeezing rhythmically.
"Is he eating?"
"Inconsistently. Sometimes he acts like he's starving, other days I have to wrestle water down his throat. Nothing too out of the ordinary, given the new senses can be pretty overwhelming."
Robby nods, running his other hand up and down Dennis' back, feeling his muscles shudder and chase the sensation. He allows himself a small smirk up at Jack.
"Touch?"
"Wanted. Constantly."
Robby chortles a rusty laugh at the dryness of Jack's tone, the quirk of his eyebrow.
"But he's also incredibly restless, and his muscles and bones hurt all the time from the change. He wants to pace and play and wrestle - and bite - at all fucking hours. He won't stay still enough for anything else. He barely sleeps, which is only making everything worse."
"Okay." Robby nods thoughtfully, patting Dennis' back and feeling him twitch in response. "Well, let's start there, then. See if we can't get some of this tension out of you, hmm?"
Without any further discussion or hesitation, Robby reaches the hand that isn't clamped on Dennis' neck down to his legs, and nudges them apart.
"Okay Dennis, just let me in and give me some room - there you go, there's a good boy."
Dennis is so startled by the hand easily dipping below his waistband that he barely does anything more than grunt at the sensation of one of those big, hairy hands closing around his cock. He reflexively jerks, tries to curl around the intrusive hand, but his neck is still being squeezed, his head still pressed against Robby's knee, and even the gentle, steady pressure on his cock isn't enough to fully yank him out of that warm, comfortable low place he's sunk to. He whimpers when Robby's hand actually starts moving firmly, stroking up and down his cock in a somewhat clinical fashion.
"Mm, I know, you weren't expecting that, were you? Poor puppy. I know, it's all very personal, isn't it?" Robby's musing in the same mild way he might have been talking about the weather, and it makes something writhe in Dennis' belly as his hips start to twitch ever so slightly. "Just relax, there's a good boy. You've got all that pent up energy, and it's only getting you in trouble, isn't it? Give it to me and I'll get rid of it, there we go."
"He's responsive, that's a good sign," Robby directs casually to Jack, who has resumed swigging at his beer as he lets Dennis hold hazy eye contact with him. He smiles at his poor, befuddled boy as his cheeks start to flush and he starts to vocalise in tiny, repeated little whimpers.
"Can't say I'm surprised," Jack returns easily, "he's all over me the minute I do so much pat his hand. Hell, sometimes all I have to do is look at him and he'll come running over here like I've dangled a treat in front of him."
"Jack!" Tearful and wobbly, Dennis' part-plea part-protest almost gets swallowed by his unsteady breathing as Robby starts to twist his wrist on the upstroke.
"Ah ah, drop the attitude." Robby ceases all movement, gripping Dennis' cock tight at the base and nodding when it tears a quiet cry from Dennis' throat. His hips bob helplessly, though it does him no good to essentially be humping the air. "If you want to whine, I'll make sure you have something to whine about."
"I'm - I'm sorry. Robby, I'm sorry."
"Not to me."
"Jack - Jack, I'm sorry. Sir, I promise I'm so - I'm so sorry."
"Very pretty, such a good boy." Robby gently coos down at him, slowly resuming his stroking as Jack lowly assures Dennis.
"I know you are, Den. You're doing very well. Does that feel nice?"
Dennis nods frantically, as much as he can with Robby's hand still clamping down on his neck and keeping his head on his lap. His eyes are red-rimmed as they gaze up at Jack, whimpers falling quietly but far more freely from his lips as he alternates between holding his breath and panting in desperate, gulping breaths.
"You've been tense and hurting for a long time, haven't you Dennis?" Robby murmurs, low and quiet into his ear. A sound a lot like a sob tears its way through Dennis' throat and he nods in frantic, undone agreement. His hips are faltering in their rhythm.
"And it's all built and built inside you until it all comes pouring out," Robby glides his fingers over the head of Dennis' cock, feels his whole body twitch, "in such naughty behaviour. So we're going to make sure you have a proper outlet for that, hmm? We're going to make sure you're nice and empty down here, so that head of yours can be quiet and fuzzy and relaxed."
Dennis is starting to let out urgent little sounds now, eyes glued to Jack, almost like he's making a distress call, begging Jack to answer, to give him what he needs.
"Robby-"
"He can come when he's remembered his manners."
"Please! Sir - please. Can I? I'll be good, I promise I'll be - be good."
Robby laughs at the sheer desperation, and Jack makes a lazy attempt to hide just how sweet he finds it. Robby raises his brows at Jack, shrugs at him.
"He's your puppy, not mine."
"Go ahead, Denny, let Robby get it all out of you."
The way Dennis curls violently around Robby's hand, the way he wails, open-mouthed and distraught, Jack almost thinks he's in mortal pain. He shudders and sobs and convulses in Robby's hand while the older man shushes him and gradually slows the action of the hand between his legs, while the one gripping Dennis' neck starts up a gentle palpating motion.
Jack feels compelled to reach over and stroke a hand down Dennis' narrow, shuddering back.
"Denny?"
A low, ruined sob is his only answer, and it pulls at Jack's hearstrings. He looks to Robby for approval, and a brief, fond nod is his only answer. He reaches down to haul Dennis up beneath his armpits, passing his limp, shuddering form easly over to Jack.
"Hey sweetheart." Jack rumbles into Dennis' ear, settling him against his chest, patting the muscles that still twitch. "Does it all feel a little less staticky now?"
An exhausted whine is the only sound the drifts up from the shuddering heap that is Jack's puppy, and Robby snorts fondly.
"Go put him to bed, before he does a header straight into the floor." Robby's wiping his hand off as he casts a fleeting look up at Jack. "When you come back, we can talk logistics for how this is all going to work."
Pornstar/sex worker AU where Dennis kinda realised early on in medical school that oh - oh, people will pay him to have sex with him. And he's inexperienced and kinda naive given his upbringing, but he's surprisingly...okay with it all? But slightly disappointed? Because he thought sex was supposed to be this meaningful, amazing, pleasurable Thing and it's just...it's okay. He guesses? It feels good sometimes but it doesn't reach him. And so when he gets scouted for porn because let's face it he makes bank as a sad twink type...the money is great. The attention is online and easily ignored, and he gets to actually live somewhere not on the street anymore, and he gets to buy and eat real food, and he gets to do those things while also still attending medical school.
And then during one unremarkable shift, Robby finds some of his staff...lingering outside one particular room. Some of them cast sideways glances at each other, and then quickly disperse when Robby lopes into view. He stares at them as they scatter, and he decides that he's not going to let this one rest.
The patient they were loitering around is a sweet young man, mumbling and flushed red when Robby gently enquires as to the mechanism of injury. Dennis haltingly reveals that a partner was stupid with the handcuffs they were using and ended up dislocating his shoulder and accidentally scraping off a good layer of skin while trying to course correct.
Robby feels bad for the kid - Dennis' - clear embarrassment.
"Oh, I don't even think this is the strangest thing we're going to see in the next hour, let alone this week. Don't worry, nobody here is judging you."
He fucking hopes to god he hasn't misjudged his own staff, because those few lingering stares and whispers bother Robby more than he'd like to admit. It isn't like his team.
But then Dennis beams such a grateful, sweet smile up at Robby, like his one stupid, throwaway line (one that he's used hundreds of times before on other embarrassed patients, and he suddenly feels guilty about that for some reason) was a lifeline thrown to him while the waves threatened to drown him. Robby returns the smile awkwardly, suddenly uncomfortable with the overwhelming gratitude.
It isn't until Jack comes and Robby hands over the day's work, that light is shed on his team's behaviour.
"Listen, you may wanna keep an eye on south sixteen."
"Why? Combative?"
"Him? No, he won't give you any trouble, he's a sweetheart. It's just that some of the crew here have been - I dunno, man. Off. About him."
He briefly introduces Jack to Dennis as he hands over the case - tries to ignore Dennis' disappointment when Robby says he's leaving, and then equally tries to ignore the little blush that appears on his cheeks when Robby promises he's in good, steady hands with Jack.
Jack is polite and professional as ever, reassuring the kid he'll be back to check on him as soon as the results of his x-ray are back in.
"He's a sex-worker." The door to the empty breakroom is barely shut behind them before the words are leaving Jack's mouth, low and to the point.
"Okay?" He sounds stupid, he knows, but his brain hasn't quite caught up with what Jack is trying to say to him.
"He does porn, brother. That's probably why some of the staff are acting out. Anything that needs a write-up on your end?"
"Wh - no. No, it's not been anything more than some gossipy stares, but it needs nipping in the bud. I'll have a word with them - if they can't fix their faces after that, we'll go from there."
Jack nods, hands resting easily in his pockets.
"I'll do the same with my guys if it comes up - I'll let you know if we have any issues but I hope they can all be fucking grown-ups about it."
"If they're old enough to watch it, they're old enough to not be weird about it."
Jack huffs a laugh, pauses when he sees Robby eyeing him with something approaching a smirk.
"Having said that - you recognised him pretty quickly there, Jack."
Jack quirks and eyebrow, nothing more than a quick, sardonic little flick that never fails to get a smile out of Robby.
"I've seen your bookmarks, old man. You wanna be careful trying to brandish that halo around."
Hucklerabbot ; Puppy!Dennis x Mutt!Jack x Handler!Robby
[cw; belts, corporal punishment, crying, getting in trouble]
Dennis knew that he and Jack saw two different versions of the same dom.
He was a puppy. A puppy who yipped and tussled and growled and nipped and liked to mess with Jack whenever he could. Something cute and young to coo over and cuddle. Robby was Daddy, his daddy who gave him scritches and treats.
Jack was a mutt. The kind that laid in his favorite chair and napped and growled at Dennis when he nipped him too hard. The kind that heaved big sighs and let Dennis scuffle with him on energetic days. Robby was Sir, and Sir was fair but firm with him because he's an old military dog, he likes the structure and orders.
Dennis knew Robby had a different dynamic with Jack, and that was fine! He liked his daddy, he much preferred cuddles and baby talk and kisses to Sir's trained commands and tricks he does with Jack. He never had a reason to need Sir.
It was a bit of a perfect storm when Dennis first got to be on the receiving end of Sir.
Jack was curled up in his chair- being boring- as Dennis squeaked his toys and whined and whuffed at Jack. Usually by now, Robby would have directed his energy towards himself with a toy, a soft "let's let Jack nap, sweetheart, okay?"
But Robby was making dinner. More importantly, he wasn't around to tell Dennis to behave.
The first warning was when he had been biting and tugging at the leather ear of Jack's hood. Growling and tugging Jack's head while he grumbled and huffed, still refusing to play, until Jack wrapped a big paw around Dennis's neck and wrestled him into a headlock that had Dennis yelping and whining and trying to gnaw on his arms.
"Denny, what did I tell you about messing with Jack while he's napping? Robby tutted. He had come in with a towel slung over his shoulder,giving Jack a look which convinced Jack to loosen his grip and let Dennis wriggle away. He walked over and saw the bite marks in Jack's leather ear, frowning and rubbing the leather between his fingers.
"Let Jack nap, Dennis, he's an old mutt. Besides, I don't like you roughhousing by the liquor cabinet, you know that." Robby cooed, making sure to pet and scritch at his dark blonde curls until Dennis nodded and pressed his head into Robby's hand. "Sweet boy. Dinner will be ready in a half hour, you can behave until then."
And sure, Dennis could….
or he could play "try to get Jack to wrestle with him."
Soon he was circling Jack's chair again like a shark, nipping and biting at his exposed legs and arms that draped over the edge of the cushions. At one point he popped over the arm of the chair where Jack's head was, ready to plant another set of teeth marks into his pup hood, but this time Jack swiveled his head and snapped his teeth in a low growl.
It startled him so much that he ends up bumping into the liquor cabinet and breaking something.
The two pups froze at the sound of shattering glass, and if that wasn't enough of an indicator of his crimes a slow trickle of amber liquid begun to drip onto the floor. Dennis felt his stomach drop.
When he looked to Jack with wide, panicked eyes he only chuckled and gave him a sly little grin
"Better to tell him now than later, puppy." Jack hummed, entirely too pleased with the turn of events. So Dennis slowly crawled into the kitchen, sat by Robby's feet and gave a little whine. Robby picked up a vegetable butt between his index and thumb, ready to make Dennis do a trick for some scraps before he stopped and looked at his distraught pup.
Dennis doesn't even want to tell him at this point, he wants to go back in the living room and clean it all up and make it look like nothing had happened. But he knew that would get him in more trouble- if Robby found one of his very expensive bottles of whiskey inexplicably gone
"I. um... Daddy-" Dennis started, fidgeting with his fingers.
"Shh shh, what is it pup? It's okay."
"Ibrokesomethingintheliquorcabinet."
It came out in a rush, Dennis still looking at his feet and not at his Daddy's face.
Robby blinked for a second, processing, before answering. His voice was deceptively mild.
"...And this was after I just told you to stop rough housing with Jack?"
Dennis nodded miserably, startling when Robby snapped his fingers by his head.
"Look at me. Did you break something because you were messing with Jack?"
"...yes daddy." Dennis whines, fingers fidgeting on the floor. Robby sighed and leaned back up, cutting the gas stove and grabbing a towel. "Well, lets go check the damage."
Following him back to the scene of the crime made Dennis's stomach squirm. He slunk back into the living room on Robby's heels, sitting by the armchair while Robby opened up the cabinet to see which bottle broke. Jack's got one eye open from his pretend nap, watching shit hit the fan.
Robby found the bottle- thankfully broken into clean, big pieces- and sighed.
"Puppy, do you know how much a bottle of Bushmill's Single Malt Whiskey costs?"
Dennis doesn't even want to guess, he knows it'll be more than he'd even think a bottle of whiskey could be. Dennis looks at him through his lashes and trying not to let the whine slip from between his teeth.
"Th-three- four, four hundred?" He stuttered, looking up at him, but Robby's face gave nothing away.
"A little higher than that, pup."
"Daddy-"
"Tsht. Try again."
Jack chuckled at Robby's reprimand and shifted in the chair so he could properly watch.
"The whiskey was only 2 years younger than you, pup. Come on."
"S...seven? Hundred?" Robby clicks his tongue and looks at Jack.
"Mutt?"
"Nine hundred and seventy, Sir." Jack answered swiftly,
"Come here." And he didn't want to, but he was positive Robby's would grab his collar and pull him if he doesn't, so he slowly crawled over next to Robby. Before he can sit up though, Robby's palm is in his hair and pushing, down until his cheek is pressed against the wood floor and the sweet smell of whiskey fills his nostrils
"Sweetheart, I told you that roughhousing by the liquor cabinet would make something break, didn't I?" Robby asked softly, making Dennis's eyes tear up.
"I'm sorry, Daddy, m'sorry-" Dennis whined.
"Oh, you're going to be."
The hand in his hair is gone, and Robby's standing up and unbuckling his belt. "25 spanks- one for each ounce that's gone down the drain."
Dennis tries to sit up so he can ready himself but Robby makes that "Tsht." noise that has Dennis freezing in place. "I didn't tell you to get up."
He counted them out for Dennis- each one pulling a yelp from him, whining and whimpering like a puppy as big ol' tears welled up and rolled down his cheeks. After the 13th robby knelt down and asked for a color
"G-green."
"Are you sure, puppy?"
"Yes Daddy." Because yeah it sucks, but this is how he makes up for it. There's no way he can afford an almost 1k bottle of whiskey but the punishment settles the feverish guilt and worry bubbling inside of him. His own form of atonement.
Robby finishes them out and it's like a switch is flipped- Robby's kneeling by Dennis and kissing what hair is dry still, telling him he did so good, took it so well, what a good boy. And Dennis is whining into the large hands petting his cheeks and hair, nodding vehemently when Robby asks him if he's going to listen to Daddy next time.
"Ok, honey. Let's go upstairs, come on." The two of them make their way upstairs, Robby on two feet and Dennis on his hands and knees, following Robby to the den and where splashing water could be heard. Robby gave Jack a kiss on the forehead and a soft "Good Mutt." Before grabbing one of his college shirts and a pair of boxers for Dennis to wear after.
Dennis doesn't love having his collar taken off, whimpering low in his throat until Robby reassured him that Jackie's gonna clean it off for him, make it all nice and clean so he can wear it after his bath.
He helped Dennis climb into the tub of water and followed him once he's stripped down. Dennis hisses at the warm water on his ass but it melts away the stinging hurt the longer he's in it
Robby settled Dennis against his chest and carefully pours water over his hair, shields his eyes with one hand even, massaging shampoo and conditioner into his hair and murmurs about how much he loves Dennis, and how he's sorry he had to be mean, pressing kisses to his wet forehead with each rinse
"It's all done now, Denny. It's over, everything is forgiven. You're a good boy sweetheart, such a good boy. Oh, I know, I know." Shushing him occasionally as the sobs sometimes make random little reappearances. "I'm sorry it came to that, puppy. I know it wasn't very fun for you, hmm? But we're done, I promise, and you were such a good boy. I love you, puppy. Everything's okay, I promise."
Dennis ends up being The Most ClingyTm the entire night in a sweet puppy pile with Jack and Robby after Robby cleans the glass and whiskey from the incident.
And… maybe Dennis turns up his nose to whiskey for a good while.
.
.
.
.
Sorry if this was a lil sloppy, I just wanted to get it down on tumblr fseguhfksdjfhk
ellievsbear
amandla
prguitarman
