divina

19 ('06) - she/her - MDNI - boricua unapologetically corny. sorry. // in love w the pitt, tlou, the mandalorian & pedro pascal

[discodeviant]

med school rabbot + established relationship 1.3k | ao3 | part 1 | second installment of acespec baby rabbot!! please enjoy <3

Robby reveres him.

| mine l8r?

More than Jack knows.

| yes :)

More than he, himself, understands; it’s a miraculous thing to be loved.

“Later” means around six or seven, after class, after work, when restaurants fill and streets teem with rush hour traffic that means it’s never certain when Robby will hear a knock on his door, but it’s always much sooner than he guessed. Tonight, however, is different. The hours drag. He worries his lip, smokes too much, paces the imaginary worn line in the rug from all of the other pacing he does to quell the frayed, overlapping sources of noise in his head.

When the knock does come they fall silent.

When he sees Jack he remembers that they’ve shared in this comfort for many months; it’s easy to be kissed in the open doorway, greeted by way of a playful squeeze to his side as the words—hi, baby, sweet like summer—get lost in his mouth. Jack brought him coffee. There’s a heart drawn on the lid. “You don’t have to be all cute about it, you know, I’m already won.”

“What’s a few extra points?”

Well-built arms wrap dutifully around his midsection as Jack lumbers them both inside, Robby to the desk where he’s guided to sit on the surface. Jack stands between his knees, leans in as Robby’s hands slide into his back pockets, and Robby asks, “Were you at the gym?”

“Yeah. Why, do I look as sore as I feel?”

“Your hair’s still damp.” His fingers slip through Jack’s curls to make a point, pull away cool and carrying the scent of eucalyptus shampoo.

“Figured I’d go a little earlier so I could get back here and see you,” Jack says, eager and knowing how to turn Robby a new shade of red every time. “What have you been up to all day?”

“Uh. I tagged along with Manny and Jack on their bike trail, so that was fun. It loops kind of around the reservoir. Did lots of thinking.”

Curious eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? What about?”

Robby’s heart somersaults and fails the landing.

“You?”

“Goober. What about me?”

“Well. Um. Actually what we’d talked about… before. About the—the trying things… thing.”

“Oh,” Jack says, and he sounds pleasantly surprised, a lilt in his tone to match straightened posture. When he responds it’s slow and careful. “What did you have in mind?”

Robby’s lips purse then press into a thin line, his lungs inflate, and flashes of Jack’s body invade his memory, nothing he’s not seen before, up close, but not in bed the way he’s dreamt; deliberately, excruciatingly bare. His hands speak before his voice has the chance to give out, quickly from waist to Jack’s face, neck, tracing the collarbones with both thumbs and flicking the opened top button. Jack moves to take off his shirt, but Robby stops him. “Let me,” he says and thinks Jack’s smile could nourish the trees.

“What’d you work out today? Legs, chest…?”

“Chest, yeah,” Jack says, breathy. “Arms.”

Robby slides his hands to feel Jack’s shoulders and biceps; they’re hard with enough give to sink in his nimble fingertips under short sleeves, skin hot, soft. The same is true for his pectorals, sculpted over years of physical discipline that Robby just doesn’t have, and so he runs his nails down, back up, drinks in the way Jack shivers. “Oh, you liked that,” he teases. Jack groans, drops his head over Robby’s shoulder and bites it tenderly, to which Robby giggles like a smitten schoolboy—which, he supposes, he is. “Go sit on the bed.”

It’s a gentle effort to push Jack that way until he’s sitting, looking up, their hands interlaced for another second until Robby dips down to his knees, still watching, searching blindly for the end of a shoelace to pull and let the shoe come with it, then the other, then both clammy socks. Jack leans on his hands. “You’ll tell me to stop if—”

“Don’t stop, Mike,” Jack tells him with the fondest gleam, a sweet little smile. The words flow through Robby’s brain like a song and sooth his heart. As he finds the hem of Jack’s shirt, when their skin connects there, knuckles to the Adonis belt, he dares to look down again, watch the fabric lift, Jack’s abdomen tense, and now the shirt is thrown over a pillow, a clear path for jeans and briefs to follow; Robby tries to take his time. Jack lets him. Buckle; belt; button; zipper; jeans, with which Jack helps; and Robby’s hands are searing on his thighs.

“Jesus,” Robby says, stomach fell like he’s watching Michelangelo’s David come to life right before him. He clears his throat. He stands up, brings Jack’s hands to his waist, and, “Do me,” breathless himself, liquefied as his shirt buttons are ignored and the whole thing is pulled off in one movement that feels like Jack has already touched him everywhere, hands up his torso and gone just as quickly. He’s in a pair of sweatpants that drop to the floor, enshrouding his bare feet.

Robby bends for a kiss. It’s different somehow. He rakes through Jack’s hair, massages the scalp, drags his hands down those freckled cheeks he loves so much and sees up close how they dapple all the way in an even coat down Jack’s shoulders and arms. He kisses there too, everywhere his mouth will lead, softly, slowly, cheek pressed to listen to every frantic heartbeat so he knows Jack is in the same reverie. Lower, his lips meet Jack’s belly, and when he looks up again Jack blushes, doesn’t stop him from sliding down his briefs and letting them fall too. Robby does off his own, standing yet again, his knees warm and pink from the floor.

“You can look,” he says, “it’s okay,” and the hesitance dispels. Jack’s eyes follow the long line of his body, also not unfamiliar, grateful maybe. They linger at the height of his thighs for a time. Maybe he’s curious. Robby’s breath hitches when his kiss is matched, and Jack’s hands are on his hips, nose first to his happy trail, then lips for a long, arduous moment that sends a shiver up his spine.

“Okay?” Jack asks, still pressed firmly to his torso.

Robby chuckles. “God, I love you.”

“Mmm… and I”—kiss—“love”—kiss—“my Robby.”

He’s pulled onto the bed, mouth sought after once more, seized and freely given. His heart sticks the landing this time—and it’s nice. Jack kisses him like it’s the first and the last, deep and slow, holds Robby against his chest, twists their legs, and Robby thinks he’ll burst at the seams. Soon the fervor slows. They lay still, Robby’s head on Jack’s shoulder as a lazy finger circles the smooth expanse of his chest where once in a while he’ll press another kiss just to remind himself of the taste.

Eventually he moves to put Joni on, coffee in the mini fridge, then slots himself right back where he was with his groin against Jack’s thigh. This is the part he falters with—can’t talk about or doesn’t know how, has said as much to Jack but finds it still makes him squirm with unease. They’re both looking. It’s the natural focus of their eye line, the point at which all angles meet, Jack to the open air and Robby half obscured but equally present. Nothing in him stirs at the sight. Not really. His heart swells the way he thinks his nethers are supposed to if only because it is Jack who holds him until their sides stick with sweat and far longer.

“Hey, Mike?”

“Yeah?”

Jack’s chest lifts his head with a long, steady breath.

“Thank you,” Jack says. “For trusting me.”

Robby grins, pulls himself up to press a kiss under Jack’s ear and wistfully tells him, “You make it easy.”

When they get cold, they slink under the covers, asleep before the CD ends, carried by the night through endless, effortless pleasures of soul, twin flames alight and steady.

[divinarositaa]

how would rabbot wake each other up on a sunday morning?

jack knows robby's the type who needs to be woken up gently. or at the very least discreetly. he's borderline nonverbal and his first interaction of the morning sets the precedent for the rest of his day. it's robinavitch 101.

jack would already have breakfast made when he goes back into their bedroom. the curtains are still drawn, barring the morning light from weaseling its way in. but it's 10am and one look at robby's face confirms he's not dead to the world. perfect. he lifts a corner of the blanket, plops down onto their bed, and just starts talking.

"i woke up this morning and was craving pancakes for the first time in years. no clue why. i wanted to throw peanut butter chips in there, but i forgot i used them in the brownies i made last week. remind me to add them to the grocery list. but instead i-"

aaand so on and so forth. robby just hums as he talks, toeing the line between asleep and awake. jack's voice is easy to listen to, and he says nothing that requires robby to talk back. it's more like he's throwing him a tether to help bring him to wakefulness, and robby takes it.

"..oh, and i used your coffee mug by the way." he throws in offhandedly. robby would roll his eyes if he were awake enough to expend the effort needed. instead he smirks. jack, repeat offender of stealing his things. sips of his water, spritzes of his cologne, his sweaters, his coffee mugs. and jack pleads guilty with a smug grin every time. "why do you do that? my water tastes the same as yours." robby would argue. "but its your water," jack would shrug.

a fond smile unfurls on robby's face. he finally he sits up.

success. jack takes that as his cue.

he grabs his crutches and opens the curtains. not completely, just enough for the morning to warm the room up slowly. he walks back to the bed and hands robby his glasses from the nightstand before telling him breakfast is waiting. he leaves the door open behind him, letting the light from the rest of the house and the smells of the kitchen filter in to entice him.

a couple minutes later robby is pushing his black frames up, making them all crooked as he rubs the remaining sleep from his eyes. he pinches the bridge of his nose as he shuffles out of the bedroom. jack is staring unabashedly, leaned on the kitchen counter with a smile that brings the soft crinkle around his eyes out. the stove's been wiped clean and the air smells like a mix of butter and coffee. jack tastes like both as he presses his lips to robby's. "morning, sweetheart. your plate's in the microwave."

robby's method is a bit different. jack likes to be groped awake. no, pause. jack likes touching, and lots of it. maybe robby shouldn't phrase it so crudely. he just likes steady, muscle-deep pressure. maybe a gentler approach if robby's fingers are trailing down his spine or squeezing his sides. either way, he doesn't complain how he paws at him so long as he does so like he means it. jack groans weakly when he massages the back of his neck, his shoulders, and especially his forearms. he grunts when robby's fingers ruffle his sleep-mussed hair and scatch his scalp. robby thinks it's a bit like petting a large dog. he just melts, so robby usually has to talk to actually keep him awake.

"we need to buy a new stylus for the record player.." robby would comment as he grabs a handful of jack's calf over the duvet. he settles his weight on the mattress and starts massaging downward. his other hand lands on jack's ankle, long fingers wrapping around it's width. jack hums throatily as robby's thumb into the arch of his foot, pressing deep into the muscles. "shit's skipping every couple seconds. i'm about ready to toss the whole damn thing."

"don't," jack mumbles roughly. robby can barely even hear the man with how deeply his cheek is pressed into his pillow. "just.. check the bottom or the back. should.. should have the model number on it. 's an easy fix, hon."

robby clicks his tongue. his hands move up, massaging jack's thick thighs and rubbing small circles into the backs of his knees. "i know."

"do ya? cause every time you walk past that thing, you look like you want to chuck it out the window."

"i should." robby grumbles, stifling a grin as jack lets out a quiet 'hmmph' as he pulls down the blankets to touch his bare skin. he's smooth and sleep-warm to the touch, freckled skin erupting into goosebumps when robby lightly drags his fingernails down his sides. "it's a ruby tip, we'll be burning through styluses every other month. might as well get something that actually lasts instead of flushing money down the drain."

"it can't be that hard to find a diamond one.." jack counters lazily, disinterest slowly creeping into his argument when he hears the bed creak and robby's lips ghost the back of his shoulder. he smells like coffee and aftershave. did he clean up his beard? jack feels his chest warm with the sudden urge to look, but robby's hands have made it so his body doesn't want to cooperate.

in no time at all it's a total mutiny, and his mouth capitulates to robby's touch. all robby did was wiggle his hand between jack's throat and the pillow and squeeze. not domineeringly, just enough to brand the rhythm of jack's pulse into the pads of his fingers. and that was enough to tip the scales in robby's favor. he feels the exact moment he no longer gives a damn about preserving the poor turntable. "yeah, yeah, do whatever you want.." jack drawls, giving up his counterargument entirely when robby's hands converge on the back of his neck. "set it on fire for all i care."

robby laughs quietly. he helps jack turn onto his back, and the two stare at each other for a moment. robby's deep brown eyes twinkle down at him, basking in the frivolous victory. jack's narrow at him. he crosses his arms. "i hope you're serving coffee with your manipulation this morning," jack drones. robby lets out a little hoot of laughter before he leans down to place an affectionate peck onto his mouth. "have i ever not?"

p.s: they're so special to me :))

[divinarositaa]

and for my next trick I’m putting abbot in a playboy bunny suit and making it robby’s problem

[divinarositaa]

part 1 posted!! you can find it here!

[divinarositaa]

abbot wearing a playboy bunny suit?

the first time he heard jack talk about putting on that outfit, it hadn't even been with him. robby had simply been caught in the crossfire.

trinity was chained to a desk in central and forevermore sentenced to charting purgatory. she was looking for a lifeline, anything to break the monotony, and jack happened to be the closest target.

"so, abbot. any plans for halloween? costume ideas?"

jack hummed from where he was scrolling through a patient's history. he was an intriguing case. terrible luck on the guy's part, jack thought. the last place you ever wanted to be considered interesting was a hospital, and the sentiment doubled when you piqued the curiosity of not one, but two senior staff. robby had clasped his shoulder, pulled him in for a maddeningly work-appropriate hug, and muttered 'you'll never believe this'. jack had been hooked on it since then. engrossed, really.

truth be told he wasn't going to deign trinity with a real answer. not because he wanted to be an ass, but because halloween hadn't even crossed his mind yet, and it certainly wasn't now. but he had a reply cocked and loaded before his brain could flick the safety on, and his mouth fired it for him without a second thought.

"a playboy bunny," he blithed, dry as ever.

hardly a moment passed before a loud clang interrupted the constant chaos of the ER, an achievement in and of itself. heads turned. the entirety of the well-occupied nurse's station seemed to hold its breath as something metallic rebounded across the floor. violently distracting in a way only metal dared to be.

a water bottle rolled into view, puttering across the floor in a lazy half-circle. the man who swiped it from the floor was a very flustered michael robinavitch.

"you okay there chief?" dana ventured, peering at him from below her glasses. he had accrued more pairs of eyes within three seconds than he cared to address all at once. dana, jack, trinity, princess, and perlah. all about as discreet as a pulled fire alarm.

"fine, 'm fine, just knocked it over." he tried to dismiss, setting the offending water bottle back down onto the counter with a discreet plink. robby’s face tightened into an exasperated smile. or a grimace. robby shoved his hands in his pockets before rightly deciding that was childish and wrapping them around the cord of his stethoscope instead. when his eyes skipped across a few of his audience members, he found them all to be ambivalent or infuriatingly smug. jack was the only one who wore the latter expression.

instant mistake. his stomach swooped. the tension he’d balled up in his chest buckled at once. a flush lashes its way up the back of his neck so quickly Robby’s fingers feel cold in comparison. when had he even reached up to rub it?

"i'm checking up on our zebra patient." he announces gruffly, talking to no one in particular. the floor, maybe. he turns on his heel and sets off in that direction like the guy was about to code.

a shared look of bemused confusion passes through the group. jack parrots the look pretty well. yet as the group went back to work, he shifted his weight back and forth. now he’s got two interesting cases in his hands.

so a playboy costume? very interesting. note taken.

p.s.: part two soon :))?

[divinarositaa]

and for my next trick I’m putting abbot in a playboy bunny suit and making it robby’s problem

[smoky-solitude]

Jack used to sleepwalk, sleepeat, sleeptalk, and sleepwander. His mother would direct him very carefully back to his bed and tuck him in, no harm no foul. Thankfully he grew out of sleepwalking when he turned ten, though he retained the sleeptalking even through his years in the army. His wife loved it: she thought it was hilarious.

He lost his leg first and then his wife soon after, so he moved back into his parents' house, his tail proverbially between his legs. With his life in ruins around him, he found he hadn't quite kicked the habit.

When he dreamed, he still had two legs.

Jack's healing nub did not enjoy plummeting ten inches to the floor the first time he tried to sleepwalk. His parents, meanwhile, did not enjoy the many, many creative words he used when he woke up on the floor.

He woke up on the floor a number of times before he found a very-not-kinky handcuff solution that he attached to his infantilizing bed rails. It took a long time for Jack to claw his way back to dignity and independence, but he made it. He made it through med school, residency, and even got an attending position at the PTMC.

So what if he never slept over after a hookup and never hosted. So what if he never found anyone he trusted enough to tell about his somewhat embarrassing condition.

His life was fine. It was his own, and that's all he could ask for.

"Stay," Robby insisted. His hand gripped Jack's loosely, but the insistence in his eyes was stronger than any desperate grab. His lips were dark from kissing, and his chest was covered in a light sheen of drying sweat. Jack had sucked bruises on his belly and thighs, but there was still plenty of room for more, he noticed.

"Better not," Jack said quietly. He didn't try to free his hand though. It was their third time hooking up, and Jack was starting to feel like things were getting a bit too close, a bit too intimate. His belly was full of butterflies like he was a teenager again, and he was definitely too old for a crush.

That didn't mean he couldn't have one.

"Please?" Robby pulled back enough so that there was space for Jack in his arms. It looked inviting.

"Alright, brother. I'll stay for a bit." Jack took off his leg again and tucked himself into Robby's lanky frame.

"This OK?" Robby's breath stirred the hairs on the back of his neck. His fingers ran up and down Jack's arms before his arm wrapped around Jack's middle like a vice.

"It's good," Jack murmured, half asleep.

He had intended to stay five, maybe ten minutes. Then he'd find some excuse or other, about the bed, the pillows, something, that would allow Jack to leave without hurting Robby's feelings.

But with Robby's body trapping him into bed, he fell asleep feeling safe as houses. Robby was better than a weighted blanket, and Jack found that, even if he wanted to, he couldn't go anywhere.

[divinarositaa]

this was so freaking cute and well done! so bittersweet I adore :,))

[divinarositaa]

how would rabbot wake each other up on a sunday morning?

jack knows robby's the type who needs to be woken up gently. or at the very least discreetly. he's borderline nonverbal and his first interaction of the morning sets the precedent for the rest of his day. it's robinavitch 101.

jack would already have breakfast made when he goes back into their bedroom. the curtains are still drawn, barring the morning light from weaseling its way in. but it's 10am and one look at robby's face confirms he's not dead to the world. perfect. he lifts a corner of the blanket, plops down onto their bed, and just starts talking.

"i woke up this morning and was craving pancakes for the first time in years. no clue why. i wanted to throw peanut butter chips in there, but i forgot i used them in the brownies i made last week. remind me to add them to the grocery list. but instead i-"

aaand so on and so forth. robby just hums as he talks, toeing the line between asleep and awake. jack's voice is easy to listen to, and he says nothing that requires robby to talk back. it's more like he's throwing him a tether to help bring him to wakefulness, and robby takes it.

"..oh, and i used your coffee mug by the way." he throws in offhandedly. robby would roll his eyes if he were awake enough to expend the effort needed. instead he smirks. jack, repeat offender of stealing his things. sips of his water, spritzes of his cologne, his sweaters, his coffee mugs. and jack pleads guilty with a smug grin every time. "why do you do that? my water tastes the same as yours." robby would argue. "but its your water," jack would shrug.

a fond smile unfurls on robby's face. he finally he sits up.

success. jack takes that as his cue.

he grabs his crutches and opens the curtains. not completely, just enough for the morning to warm the room up slowly. he walks back to the bed and hands robby his glasses from the nightstand before telling him breakfast is waiting. he leaves the door open behind him, letting the light from the rest of the house and the smells of the kitchen filter in to entice him.

a couple minutes later robby is pushing his black frames up, making them all crooked as he rubs the remaining sleep from his eyes. he pinches the bridge of his nose as he shuffles out of the bedroom. jack is staring unabashedly, leaned on the kitchen counter with a smile that brings the soft crinkle around his eyes out. the stove's been wiped clean and the air smells like a mix of butter and coffee. jack tastes like both as he presses his lips to robby's. "morning, sweetheart. your plate's in the microwave."

robby's method is a bit different. jack likes to be groped awake. no, pause. jack likes touching, and lots of it. maybe robby shouldn't phrase it so crudely. he just likes steady, muscle-deep pressure. maybe a gentler approach if robby's fingers are trailing down his spine or squeezing his sides. either way, he doesn't complain how he paws at him so long as he does so like he means it. jack groans weakly when he massages the back of his neck, his shoulders, and especially his forearms. he grunts when robby's fingers ruffle his sleep-mussed hair and scatch his scalp. robby thinks it's a bit like petting a large dog. he just melts, so robby usually has to talk to actually keep him awake.

"we need to buy a new stylus for the record player.." robby would comment as he grabs a handful of jack's calf over the duvet. he settles his weight on the mattress and starts massaging downward. his other hand lands on jack's ankle, long fingers wrapping around it's width. jack hums throatily as robby's thumb into the arch of his foot, pressing deep into the muscles. "shit's skipping every couple seconds. i'm about ready to toss the whole damn thing."

"don't," jack mumbles roughly. robby can barely even hear the man with how deeply his cheek is pressed into his pillow. "just.. check the bottom or the back. should.. should have the model number on it. 's an easy fix, hon."

robby clicks his tongue. his hands move up, massaging jack's thick thighs and rubbing small circles into the backs of his knees. "i know."

"do ya? cause every time you walk past that thing, you look like you want to chuck it out the window."

"i should." robby grumbles, stifling a grin as jack lets out a quiet 'hmmph' as he pulls down the blankets to touch his bare skin. he's smooth and sleep-warm to the touch, freckled skin erupting into goosebumps when robby lightly drags his fingernails down his sides. "it's a ruby tip, we'll be burning through styluses every other month. might as well get something that actually lasts instead of flushing money down the drain."

"it can't be that hard to find a diamond one.." jack counters lazily, disinterest slowly creeping into his argument when he hears the bed creak and robby's lips ghost the back of his shoulder. he smells like coffee and aftershave. did he clean up his beard? jack feels his chest warm with the sudden urge to look, but robby's hands have made it so his body doesn't want to cooperate.

in no time at all it's a total mutiny, and his mouth capitulates to robby's touch. all robby did was wiggle his hand between jack's throat and the pillow and squeeze. not domineeringly, just enough to brand the rhythm of jack's pulse into the pads of his fingers. and that was enough to tip the scales in robby's favor. he feels the exact moment he no longer gives a damn about preserving the poor turntable. "yeah, yeah, do whatever you want.." jack drawls, giving up his counterargument entirely when robby's hands converge on the back of his neck. "set it on fire for all i care."

robby laughs quietly. he helps jack turn onto his back, and the two stare at each other for a moment. robby's deep brown eyes twinkle down at him, basking in the frivolous victory. jack's narrow at him. he crosses his arms. "i hope you're serving coffee with your manipulation this morning," jack drones. robby lets out a little hoot of laughter before he leans down to place an affectionate peck onto his mouth. "have i ever not?"

p.s: they're so special to me :))

[punkanonymous]

Robby and Abbot tracking each other through, flipping each other off, and flirting in the ED. They love making their situationship everyone’s problem.

[divinarositaa]

went to a con today and someone gifted me this cool little thing

[divinarositaa]

but if you think that I can stay

in this same old same old, well

I don’t

I don’t

I’m gonna break things

I’m gonna cross the line

make you wake up

cause you won’t

I’m gonna name names

I’m gonna call us out

I’m gonna say it if you won’t

Do I love you?

Oh I do.

••• ”same old same old” by The Civil Wars