God Bless The Broke.
CHAPTER 1
Jack Abbot and Michael “Robby” Robinavitch have taken a liking to a certain blonde haired blue eyed med student. Or Jack and Robby devise a plan to not look like total creeps.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/80218056/chapters/210599591
Notes: it has been so long since i’ve written and wow, it feels good to be back lmao !! if you have any constructive feedback please feel free to leave it, i am all ears. I have never written medical scenes/imagery so there are bound to be some mistakes/inaccuracies! i hope you enjoy this first chapter, i am unsure when i will update as i am a full time student and work part time—please be patient with me xx
_______
Jack Abbot was getting off an exhausting leg of four consecutive night shifts. Was it his first rodeo? Absolutely not. Did he want the ground to swallow him whole? Absolutely yes. It was safe to say that the man felt a little out of sorts—He left Robby at the hospital and knowing that he would be returning home to an empty apartment for another night this week was unsettling; especially when all he really could be bothered to do right now is sit on their worn out leather couch and watch reruns of Jersey Shore (the man likes drama—only when it’s not in the ED and doesn’t involve him). Michael always gives him shit for his shitty taste in television though they both know he’s teasing. That thought is solidified each time the pair end up snuggled under one of their many hand-me-down quilts and the voice of Snooki fills the living room. And fuck, Jack fucking wants that right now. He wants his man and a shitty beer and shitty tv and to sleep so long he forgets about the child that almost choked to death before shift change.
The pair’s apartment was strategically picked out by their lovely realtor Pam, who understood their need to feel far enough away from the hospital doors, but close enough that if they were truly needed, they could be at PTMC within ten minutes. This particular morning was turning out to be a lovely one—the air was crisp enough to hide some of the more unpleasant smells Pittsburg had to offer, and the sun was rising high in the sky giving off a subtle warmth if you stood in its beams just long enough. For most, this would be a great start to the day, but for Jack this felt like the beginning of an end. His end? Definitely not. This wasn’t the roof and he wasn’t on the other side of the railing. It was just something about leaving the hospital grounds without his lover that had him feeling a little…sensitive (He’s dramatic and he knows that, but sometimes it helps).
By the time he made it up the stairs and to the third floor his leg was flaring bright hot with pain. Jack fished his keys out of his backpack and began to unlock the door. The lights were off and the air was warm with the rich scent of coffee still lingering from his lover’s morning ritual. It made him feel alone.
His therapist says he’s been getting better at differentiating between being alone and being lonely. For a long time, both words were interchangeable and neither were manageable. Michael agrees that he has been utilizing his healthy coping mechanisms better too and Jack, well Jack will take his word over anyone else’s. Even his therapist. Because yeah, he loves that man and knows that man from the inside and out and if Michael knows Jack in the same way, that’s their business.
His keys are dropped onto the hook by the door as he toes his work shoes off and begins to strip himself of the hospital. The couple keeps a designated scrubs hamper in the entry way closet. What started as protocol during quarantine, had turned into habit and Jack can agree it does make him feel a little better knowing he’s not tracking the emergency room through their shared space (literally and figuratively). Soon enough he is down to nothing but his boxers and prosthetic. The short distance to their bathroom is easy and familiar and somehow begins to lessen the ache in his chest. The one that wants to—that tries to convince him that he is lonely. Through the practiced motions of a post-shift routine, the leg comes off, the boxers are left in a crumple on the tile floor, and the shower head is spitting out hot water like it's going out of style. A lovely steam fills up the small room and envelopes Jack in something that will have to be good enough for now. Then, he steps under the steady stream and feels like he can finally start to breathe. What a fucking night. What a fucking set of nights.
_______
Jack walked out of his and Robby’s bedroom dressed in one of Robby’s old band t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips. His movements were soupy and languid from the hot shower and the even cozier clothes (not that his uniform was particularly uncomfortable, but…) and he finally felt the tension in his shoulders begin to settle.
The kitchen was just how it was every time he arrived home after shift—clean and tidy except for the sink full of dirty dishes from his lover’s dinner from the night before and a note with a stupid smiley face or heart or maybe a joke taped to the kettle waiting to be discovered. On this particular day, his Michael had decided today was twofer kind of day; Jack got both a joke and a heart. And God if he did not love his husband already, he fucking adored him in this moment. Throughout their marriage one thing was abundantly clear to Jack: I am never going to stop falling in love with this man.
Jack removed the sticky note and stuffed it into his sweatpants pockets. It would later be placed in the top drawer of the nightstand on his side of the bed—destined to live a quite life among all the other brightly coloured pieces of paper he had saved over the years. Jack couldn't bear to throw them away. That felt a little too cruel, even for him. Before the man knew it, the kettle was whining at him and his cup of tea with a dollop of honey was ready. And no, before you ask—Jack is not a tea guy, but his doting husband has already labeled his caffeine intake as alarming. They settled on tea instead of coffee at home as their compromise.
Sitting at the island with his steaming mug, Jack began thinking back to the moments before Michael arrived at the ED and how scared the family of the baby girl he had treated looked. It felt like chaos incarnate, but with the warm chamomile tea slipping past his lips and down his throat, he realized the situation had been contained and handled.
God, she was so little in his hands. The mother and father had run into the emergency room through the double doors in a panic. Her lifeless body was limp in her daddy’s arms—face purpling. Jack thinks he will remember the look on Whitaker's face for a long time. He was scared shitless, but he didn't let it control the moment. And that is no easy feat. Jack was a seasoned ER doc not to mention his time in the military and as a SWAT pysician, it takes a lot to shake him. But in this moment, if Jack had given himself half a second to think let alone breathe, he would've felt fears vice like grip just the same.
Dr. Abbot had managed to snag Whitaker to the side before the two of them left for the night. He wanted to let him know just how much he appreciated the med students efforts and did a good job. It was safe to say that the young man gave Jack his typical awkward laced response that went something along the lines of: “Thank you, Dr. Abbot…sir. I-I um—it’s not a big deal. I mean you, you were…yeah.”
Jack smiles into his tea, he can see Whitaker with his hand scratching the back of his neck now.
_______
Eventually, Jack found himself curled up on his side of the bed and dead to the bustling world around him. It was hard coming off four days on; to finally give into the bone-deep tired that settles into your body. Once you hit the thirty-six-hour mark and then keep pushing forward for another day, for another twelve hours, you learn what true exhaustion looks like. Jack turns into a live-wire—a single spark could set him off and he cannot seem to settle until he physically shuts down. His body almost seems to beg for stimulation when mentally it is the last thing he wants to deal with. Michael knows just how to diffuse him. And when that lovely man isn’t available to help him come down, Jack tinkers around their shared space until he inevitably can’t stop yawning every thirty seconds and gets so annoyed he is forced to tuck himself into bed
And if Jack dreams of a certain bright eyed and bushy tailed med student, well, that’s his business.
A week or so ago, the couple had chatted over dinner about what their…unique interest in the farm boy from Nebraska meant. Abbot had noticed his husband’s manhandling of the young kid and while he wasn’t as touchy feely, he couldn’t deny his attraction to Whitaker. Initially, the men had determined two things during their conversation:
1. They are perverted old men.
2. They could lose their jobs or, at the very least, their respect.
That conversation ended promptly and Michael suggested they revisit the topic when they weren’t so…self critical. The following night they determined two more things:
1. Dennis Whitaker was not a child, but there was a hefty age gap (twenty-seven years between him and Robby and twenty-three years between him and Jack).
2. Jack and Robby were his attendings and married. There was a significant power imbalance.
What they need is a plan of action. Whitaker was a skittish mouse and if they acted like a pair of overly excited dogs they would surely scare him off and ruin their chance at ever being able to entertain something outside the hospital walls. Dennis’ status as an MS4 made things a little murkier than what Jack and Michael would have liked. With Whitaker still active in his schooling it was too risky for the couple to make any sort of move on him now—they would never jeopardize Whitaker's future as a doctor just so that they could get their dicks wet. Though, they both agreed that if they do this, it's more than just sex. It could never be just sex.
The couple decides that they will begin to drop subtle hints at Whitaker when he becomes an intern at PTMC. Robby and Jack would both be placing a good word in for Dennis after his rotations on night and day shift played out. He has immense potential and a caring nature that makes him a vital asset to the Pitt, one that neither doctor are going to pass up. With two referral letters from two senior attendings, they had no doubt he would be back in their ED. Until then though, they would wait like the patient, grown men that they are.
_______
Michael came home later that night to one of his favorite versions of Jack—needy. Sure, the two of them could be found lounging together on the couch cuddling up close while watching tv or reading a book, but needy Jack was an entirely different beast. This side of the man always made an appearance after particularly difficult days, or long stretches of shifts and Michael selfishly loved how his partner sought out his comfort during these soft moments.
The thick duvet was slung around Jack's waist leaving him bear chested. He must’ve gotten hot sometime in the middle of the day because Michael could see his rumpled t-shirt on the side of the bed. Robby watched as his chest rose and fell with heavy breathes, ones that could only be indicative of a deep and relaxing sleep.
He smiled.
Jack looks so beautiful. The tension was gone from his shoulders and his eyebrows, which seemed to always hold somewhat of a furrow at work, had settled. His mouth was set in a subtle pout that made Robby want to smother him with a kiss, but he refrained (not wanting to wake up his man).
He quietly slipped into their bathroom, mindful to turn on the light after shutting the door completely. He stripped himself of his boxers, his shoes on the rack by the front door and his scrubs already sitting in the bottom of the hamper with Jack’s. He stepped under the hot stream of water and as it ran over his face he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. Robby neglected to hear his husband waking up and making his way into the bathroom, the only thing that pulled his attention from the task at hand was the sound of the sink faucet beginning to run. He could see the steamy image of Jack through the fogged-up glass door and smiled. His baby was brushing his teeth, and he knew that once he was done, there was a high percentage that he would join Michael in the shower.
Soon enough, the sound of the sliding glass door opening followed by the feeling of a pair of arms looping around his waist indicated that his predictions were correct. Jack rested his head against Robby’s back, gluing himself to the taller man’s from—sighing. This is what he had been needing, this is what his body had been begging for. His other half, his saving grace. Robby smiled to himself and placed his hands over Abbots giving them a gentle squeeze.
“Hi, Baby,” he murmurs quietly. Jack grunts in response, words feeling like a little too much right now, “…you sleep okay?” Michael felt the man nod against his skin. Jack responding was good. Nonverbal or verbal, it didn’t matter—a Jack acknowledging the questions being asked of him was a present Jack and that was all Michael was worried about right now.
“C’mere sweetheart,” he says, pulling the shorter man’s arms away from his belly and turning around to fully look at him. He gently guides Jack into his hold without words. An arm at the small of his back and a hand in his hair, “that’s it...” The older man murmurs against his damp curls before pressing a kiss to his forehead.
The two men stay wrapped up in each other until both are pruny and flushed. The pair go dressed in comfortable silence. Jack opting for another one of Robby’s old t-shirts and a fresh pair of sweatpants while Robby tugs on an olive-green hoodie and some black and white plaid flannel pajama bottoms. The taller man asks Jack if he wants to get back in bed or head out to the living room and they both decided that it would be good for him to get a change of scenery.
Robby made Jack sit on the couch while he tootled around the kitchen to find them a snack to eat. After a long shift it was hard for Robby to have an appetite, often feeling too overwhelmed to want to eat a full meal. The two would create a little charcuterie of junk food paired with something on the healthier side for balance.
By the time Robby made his way over to the couch, Jack had buried himself under the thick ribbed quilt that they found at a vintage pop-up near their place. It was worn in just the right places and heavy (Jack liked the pressure of the blanket resting over his chest). The remote control was sitting on the couch cushion next to him and an old episode of real housewives was playing on their flatscreen. Robby placed the plate with their snacks on the coffee table while Jack lifted the blanket waiting for Robby to settle next to him. With a gentle groan and a pop in his knee, he tucked himself into the space next to Jacks and raised his arm so the younger man could “scooch in.” Jack slipped under his lover’s raised arm and rested his cheek against Robby’s shoulder. Both men sighed. This is exactly what they needed.
A kiss is dropped to the top of Jack’s head, and he swears the pain in his chest mellows out to a dull ache.
Halfway into their second episode Jack begins to come back into himself. Feeling more attached to his body and more present in time, “How was your shift?”
Robby laughs something that is both pained and full of mirth, “First patient of the day, a kid—younger than Jake walks and is Presenting with pain on the lower right side of the stomach, nausea, vomi—“
“Appendicitis.” Jack supplies.
“So, we thought—the ultrasound came back clear.”
“You send ‘em for additional imaging?” Jack asks knowing the answer is going to be yes.
Robby nods, “MRI came back clean, so we sent him to CT…wanted to rule out kidney stones and found something a little more interesting.”
Jack makes a face of confusion, sitting up to look at Robby, when the answer dawns on him, “Epiploic Appendagitis? But paint presents on the left side.”
Michael nods his head with a fond expression, “You're right and it does. Pain was so intense that it began to radiate. He will make a full recovery, but he’s gonna need to pay a visit to surgery before then.”
“Why not a high dose of ibuprofen and a doctor’s note?”
"Thursday marks three weeks since his pain started.” Robby explains.
“Three weeks? Shit…no wonder his right side was hurting.”
Robby nods, "That paired with the fever, it was too risky to send him home."
“And if it hasn’t cleared up on its own already, chances are…” Jack says understandingly.
”it won’t”
After a beat or so of silence, Jack can feel the chuckle that leaves his husband more than he can hear it before he continues, “He was trying to hide it from his mother. A kid on his soccer team found some of his older brother’s pot and they decided to have some fun. He found out that marijuana can stay in your system for up to thirty days and didn’t want to chance having to pee in a cup and getting caught.”
Jack groans out a laugh and covers his eyes with his free hand, “remind you of anyone you know?” Robby teases while planting a pound smooch to the curly haired man’s cheek.
“What can I say, you married a risk taker.”
Robby rolls his eyes while leaning in close, “Don’t I know it.” They meet in the middle; a short kiss shared between the spouses.
“You wanna talk about your last shift?” Robby asks, his hand slipping upward to hold Jack’s jaw, “I know it was difficult.”
“Fuck no—last thing I wanna do is talk about it. Charlie would tell me that speaking it out into existence makes it real and from there you can grapple with your feelings and actions. If it only lives in your head, it’s in a weird sort of purgatory and your brain has a hard time actually processing what’s happened.”
“Charlie sounds like a smart man.” Robby smiles, though his eyes are full of understanding and so much care. He would never push Jack to speak before he was ready to. Even if he thinks that it would benefit him more than he realizes. It wasn’t his place to push.
“Probably why he’s my therapist or something.” Jack smirks before sighing, “It was just a really long day. I was already ready to come home before I clocked in, my leg was bugging me, and I think it all just…caught up to me.” He leans back into Robby more fully, angling his body in a way that has him more in Robby’s lap than not.
“About an hour before shift change…a mom and dad race in with their daughter. They're frantic. I run over and I can see that the girl isn’t breathing. She’s turning blue in the face and is limp like dead fish. And then it’s like this switch flips in my head and I jump into action,” He shrugs and shakes his head as though he doesn’t know what to make of all this either.
“She lost consciousness by the time they reached the hospital. I remember asking what happened—her mom said that she was playing with her blocks while she made breakfast. She turned her head to flip a pancake and then she started to hear choking. I immediately took her to the nearest empty room, checked her mouth, and didn’t see anything. Then I began chest compressions. Whitaker got her set up with the monitor and kept an eye on the time,” he can see Whitaker checking his watch when he closes his eyes.
“Dr. Abbot it’s been a minute and a half since she got here.”
Jack had looked up at the young man across from him and then looked back down never missing a beat. Fuck. The parents had estimated she had only lost consciousness for two minutes at most before they made it to the ER. Which means she has been without oxygen for approximately three minutes and thirty seconds.
He paused his chest compressions and opened her mouth with his fingers, looking into the small space. This time instead of seeing nothing but black, he saw the glimmer of something metallic and hot pink.
“I see it. I can see it.” Jack gently guides the object from her throat that had been loosened from the CPR.
“We believe she went a total of four minutes and eighteen seconds without breathing. The Family lives right down the block, so it was faster to drive than call an ambulance.”
Robby lets out a low whistle with a shake of his head.
“She had gotten ahold of a rogue pompom—her mom said it was the kind that their cat Cheez-It likes to play with.”
Jack shakes his head.
“You did a good thing. You did exactly what I would have done and what any good physician would do.” Robby murmurs.
The fragility of life becomes so apparent each time he has a distressing day. I mean fuck, she wasn’t even two years old, and her entire future was on the line. No prom, no graduation, no jobs, no relationships…it’s so easy for Jack to spiral, to get hung up on the what ifs.
“And because of your help, a mom and dad get to spend another day with their daughter,” his husband murmurs quietly between them giving Jack a firm, grounding, squeeze. It gives the younger man something to cling to, to remember that this moment is real. He’s not stuck at the hospital watching as a life gets ripped away before it got the chance to start.
“I’m proud of you Jack.”
Robby can feel the uneasy deep breath in that Jack takes, his eyes downcast.
“Tell me about Whitaker, how’d he do?” Robby directs while slipping his fingertips just under the hem of Jack’s t-shirt. He rubs gentle circles on to his heated skin while he waits for a response.
Jack melts into the touch and sighs, the ghost of a fond smile gracing his tired features, “He did great. He was terrified, but man he was perfect—I didn’t need to ask him to assist. He saw an opening and took it—placed defibrillator pads on her chest while I continue compressions like it was nothing. I mean really, he did, amazing.”
Jack continues, “When he would notify me of the time, he was clear and concise. There was never a moment where I questioned his abilities.” Soon after that, the couple's conversations fizzled into silence. Both happy to simply exist next to each other.
The men are settled in bed and content under the covers and warm with their lover. Robby had dawned his glasses and was reading the new book he got on his last day off—some sort of thriller, Jack could not remember the premise.
_______
“I think this is what it feels like to die a slow death."
“Care to explain?" Robby says peering over at the man laying next to him whose head is flat against his pillow.
“I thought that this was going to be easier. I thought that I was gonna better at handling this."
“You're going to have to give me more than that babe, I'm not quite picking up what you're putting down." Michael says while laying his book face down across his chest. Jack snorts, turning on his side. They were turning into such a pair of oldies.
“We have to wait for another what?" Jack begins to count on his fingers, “another six months before the kid returns as an intern. It's fucking torture. I want to learn who he is as a person—outside of the hospital, outside of the roles we all dawn. Just Dennis."
“Please don't refer to him as kid. It already sounds bad enough." Robby says with the ghost of a smile taking over his features.
“Think he'd call me daddy if I asked?" Jack simpers a knowing glint in his gaze. Robby groans like the sound got punched out of him a knowing smirk on his lips.
“C'mon you can't say you haven't thought about it at least once."
The older man glances over at Jack and shakes with head, “We are such bad men."
“Speak for yourself Robinavich. I have been playing it safe unlike someone I know who can't seem to keep his hands to himself. Didn't realize med students needed to be physically guided through the ED."
“Oh! Says the guy who wants a man twenty-three years younger than him to call him daddy in bed. Who knows what fantasies you have brewing in that pretty head of yours."
Jack clutches his chests, his hand resting over his heart, “You think I’m pretty?"
Robby tosses his book off his chest, and he can hear it land on the floor with a thud. He moves with practiced ease and wrestles Jack onto his back, his thighs straddling the younger man's waist. Leaning down, their mouths connect in a searing kiss. One that is not rough or messy, but firm and calculated. Robby wanted to shut the man (that he loves so dearly) up and this happens to be the best way.
Jack moans into his partner's mouth, his hands clinging to Robby's waist. When they break apart, their chests are heaving with deep breaths, and Jack has a glazed-over look in his eyes. Utterly content. Their foreheads are pressed together, and both are wearing cheesy grins.
“You're a pain in my ass that's what I think"
“Yeah, but I'm your pretty pain in the ass." Jack teases while batting his eyelashes dramatically which has Robby letting out a sigh—though his expression is one full of mirth.
Both men fall asleep with a warm feeling bubbling in their chest—one that makes them question how they got so lucky.
Neither settle on a definitive answer.
Work Cited:
D’Souza, Nigel, et al. “Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) for Diagnosis of Acute Appendicitis.” The Cochrane Database of Systematic Reviews, U.S. National Library of Medicine, 14 Dec. 2021, pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC8670723/.
“Epiploic Appendagitis.” UMass Memorial Health, www.ummhealth.org/health-library/epiploic-appendagitis#:~:text=EA%20should%20go%20away%20on,not%20resolve%20with%20conservative%20management. Accessed 22 Feb. 2026.
“It’s Not Appendicitis, It’s Epiploic Appendagitis.” Cleveland Clinic, 3 Dec. 2025, my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/epiploic-appendagitis.
Jacob D, Kumar K, Le L, et al. Acute appendicitis. Reference article, Radiopaedia.org (Accessed on 22 Feb 2026) https://doi.org/10.53347/rID-922.
Mostbeck, Gerhard, et al. “How to Diagnose Acute Appendicitis: Ultrasound First - Insights into Imaging.” SpringerLink, Springer Berlin Heidelberg, 16 Feb. 2016, link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s13244-016-0469-6.
