Hi everyone ♡
My name is Kaylia (she/they) and I'm in my late 20s now, walking around writing silly little blurbs for silly little people!
Currently, I'm very much into the pitt, especially into rabbot, but even just character studies are really fun for me to dabble in! Those two old nuggets are my favourite toys to play with at the moment!
If I'm not on here, writing anything and everything small my brain decides to throw at me, I love to write longer one-shots on AO3 and am currently working on my first longer fic for them!
On that note: I absolutely take prompts to write if you have them; especially if they are angsty, fluffy or smutty! Or all of them at the same time!
Below the cut, you can find further information on how I organize my tags, as well as all the pitt-fics I have written and links to their posts here and in the archive!
Happy browsing ♡
Let's start with my tags and their purposes. These can also be found within the tags at the bottom of the post to easily search the blog!
#kaylia.exe -> all kinds of my writing excerpts
#kaylia.archive -> all fic-posts, introducing their AO3 version
#kaylia.inbox -> any asks coming in (prompts will also be marked with .exe)
#the robinavitch case -> thoughts and processes on that series
#Anonymous Aftercare -> my Omega!Robby and Alpha!Jack universe, I am building!
My current rabbot fics or introspectives that I have created thus far!
The Robinavitch Case (Explicit) (ongoing) ao3 | tumblr
point taken (Mature) ao3 | tumblr
just this once (Gen) ao3 | tumblr
In His Defense (He Didn't Use a Clicker) (Gen) ao3 | tumblr
Loneliness Hangover (Mature) ao3 | tumblr
which is worse? letting five people who would’ve been flattened without intervention be run over, or being the one to pull the lever, making yourself directly responsible for the one?
now robby’s the type of person to pull the lever. he’s going to prescribe the high dose of pain medication, saving everyone time and suffering. he wants to allow the ICE agents to take their detainee quickly so they get the fuck out and minimize their interactions with other vulnerable people. he’s going to rush along his employees (and his own) paces so they can see more people, to the detriment of themselves and patients alike.
but someone has to be at the lever.
the trolley problem is an exploration in utilitarianism and moral accountability. is it worse to be the one responsible for one death, or to be the one passively complicit in five? most people have a clear immediate answer. save the five people. when phrased in this simple hypothetical, with only a couple variables, they feel it is a no brainer.
but when we extrapolate this to the real world, i think the pitt is making it pretty obvious that no one is satisfied with that. the ICE agents weren’t going to let their detainee go. she was tied to the track already. robby could’ve been arrested if he aided in her escape (we saw them brutalize and arrest jesse for simply giving her care). they would’ve had to call in more agents as reinforcements, increasing the likelihood of more detainments. it’s the trolley problem and there are these people in class asking well, why can’t i cut the rope? who put them there? do they deserve to be on the tracks? when that defeats the entire point of the thought experiment. the point is, is the personal need to distance yourself from believing you’ve caused direct harm worth killing five people?
the person at the lever isn’t escaping unscathed either way. they’re watching someone die either way. they’re going to feel responsible either way. but some people zoom out, they minimize the most amount of suffering for the most amount of people. other people zoom in to their personal ethics and say it’s not moral to interfere with a natural course of events and push the suffering off to only one person who would otherwise be unharmed. utilitarianism vs deontology.
robby’s at the lever. he’s been at the lever everyday for decades. this is a show about how the person at the lever suffers just the same as the people on the tracks, and how we all (the people who will never have to make that choice) react to them stumbling home, spattered with blood, just a shell of themselves.
there are moral considerations robby is making, it’s just he’s put in these impossible situations that will never have a universally ethical answer. there is no correct solution to the trolley problem, just difficult decisions made under a time crunch.
For Robby, a hug from Jack is almost too overwhelming to really feel good. There is the proximity, the warmth, the strength, the others' smell, the touch, the care that is so evident through it all.
For Robby, each hug stays with him for much longer than he knows it should. They touch something deep within him that he tries to bury day in, day out.
For Robby, each hug is like a reminder to himself that no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he fights, he is still broken. Beyond repair.
To Jack, they're everything.
To Jack, they serve as a way to connect with the one person he couldn't bear to lose anymore.
To Jack, they're a reminder, a fucking neon sign screaming: This one. It's been this one for so long!!!
To Jack, they feel like the one time Robby doesn't actively try to slip through his fingers. Stops performing. Stops being Chief Attending Robby and truly becomes Michael Robinavitch.
Something that Jack has learned to treasure more than most other things.
To Jack, every hug is practice for the one he's terrified he won't get to give anymore. The one that would be too late.
Then there are the ones that mean something different to each of them. Those long ones, where neither of them really wants to let go first, yet fears to hold on for too long after all.
To Jack, those are an answer. The message of 'Still here. Still mine to hold on to.'
For Robby, they're a question he doesn't know how to stop asking himself. 'Why does this feel so much like home, when it's nothing I deserve to have...'
The ones that happen after a bad shift. Jack's hand on the back of Robby's neck, pulling him in without asking.
For Jack, it's nothing but natural behavior that almost happens on its own, whereas to Robby that's the most comforting and terrifying gesture at once.
After all, Michael is more than aware of the fact that somewhere, underneath all that careful burying of his emotions, he knows that Jack's arms are the only place he doesn't feel scared.
Summary: Fifty years after thinking he was straight Robby attends his first Pride with Jack.
Characters: Jack Abbot, Michael (Robby) Robinavitch.
Robby x Jack (Rabbot)
--- --- ---
The first June weekend in Pittsburgh arrived with a thick humid heat that clung to the skin but the air downtown was electric with a different kind of energy. Rainbow flags in every conceivable size and shade hung from storefronts and apartment windows. The city was a riot of color and sound, a vibrant pulsating heartbeat of celebration and defiance.
It was Pride weekend - and for Jack it was as much part of his year as Christmas or his own birthday. For Robby on the other hand it felt like stepping onto another planet. He knew about Pride - of course he knew. You weren’t friends with Jack Abbot for twenty-five years and didn’t know about it. But he never attended. He usually worked double shifts that weekend so that his staff could attend the festivities if they wanted to.
This time was different.
This time he very much intended to be part of the celebration. Ever since confessing his feelings to Jack shortly after returning from his sabbatical, he knew for sure he wasn’t as straight as he’d thought for the last fifty years.
The thought of being bisexual was still a strange one. Not because he was ashamed of it. He wasn’t. He loved Jack. That part was easy. The difficult part was wrapping his head around the fact that apparently he had managed to miss a fairly significant detail about himself for more than fifty years.
Robby stood in front of his closet that Sunday morning, a familiar knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. What the fuck did one wear to something like this? His wardrobe consisted of scrubs, worn-in jeans, black shirts and hoodies in grey and black. Well and one in a dark shade of green. Nothing seemed right for an occasion like that. And he didn’t want to embarrass Jack.
So eventually he settled on a plain black shirt and jeans, feeling utterly and completely underdressed. He walked back into the kitchen, where Jack waited for him, coffee in hand - and looking effortlessly cool and just so very right.
He wore a white tank top that showed off his muscular arms, a pair of camo pants and a rainbow bandana tied around his wrist. He also wore a hell of a lot bracelets in every color imaginable and some colorful temporary tattoos on his cheek and his arms.
“Ready to go, hot stuff?”
Jack looked Robby up and down and immediately clocked the expression on his face. He put his coffee down and wrapped his arms around him. Robby buried his face in Jack’s neck.
“No” he mumbled.
“What’s wrong? Did you change your mind? Do you want to stay home?” Jack asked gently, holding him tightly.
Robby shook his head. “No, it’s just… I don’t have an outfit.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “You do wear an outfit, Mike.”
“Yeah.” Robby sighed heavily and straightened. “But not a Pride outfit.”
Jack tried to hide the smirk creeping up on him, then reached out and cupped his chin. “Listen Mike - you don’t need a certain outfit, okay? You can go in whatever clothes you feel like. It’s Pride, not the court.”
Robby smiled a little despite himself. “I know” he said before hesitating. “It’s just… I want to belong” he added, barely audible.
For a moment Jack just looked at him. Twenty-five years of friendship. Months of dating. Countless conversations. And somehow Robby still thought he had to earn his place.
Jacks heart started to ached a little.
He leaned over to kiss him gently before turning around, grabbing a makeup palette sitting on the table. “Okay, come on, we’re fixing this. Hold still.”
Robby blinked. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you feel you belong there” Jack said, while painting a rainbow flag onto Robby's cheek.
When he was done he grabbed some temporary tattoos from the table. “So, boyfriend, let’s get you Pride-ified, huh?”
“That’s not even a word” Robby muttered under his breath, but secretly delighted how easy Jack made this for him.
Jack shrugged. “It is now. And I’ll be condemned if I let my sexy boyfriend think he doesn’t belong into his own community just because he doesn’t have color on his body.”
He paused when he saw the look on Robby’s face.
“You know you belong there, right?” he asked with a gentle voice, while he pressed the tattoo on his arm.
Robby shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel like… everyone’s going to know I'm... an imposter.”
"You're not an imposter." Jack’s eyes narrowed, then he shook his head once, dabbing on the tattoo with a wet cloth. “You belong there, Michael. You’re as much part of this community as I am. So please, get this thought out of this pretty head of yours, huh?”
Robby smiled reluctantly, watching Jack peeling off the protective layer of the tattoo. A rainbow-colored heart appeared on his forearm.
Jack lifted his arm, pressing a soft kiss onto it. “I love you” he whispered before kissing him properly.
Robby’s response was a soft moan.
As they walked towards the parade route the sheer scale of it hit Robby. The streets were packed with people. There were drag queens in towering, elaborate wigs, leather-clad men leading their partners on leashes, families with rainbow-painted faces and groups of teenagers laughing and shouting. The air was filled with the thumping bass of a dozen different sound systems, the smell of street food and a palpable overwhelming sense of joy.
Robby felt a wave of panic bubbling up in his stomach.
It was too much.
The noise, the crowds, the sheer unapologetic flamboyance of it all. He felt a hundred years old and painfully straight, like a plain desert plant suddenly thrust into the middle of a tropical rainforest. He stuck close to Jack, his hand gripping his a little too tightly.
Jack on the other hand seemed like he had the time of his life - and he apparently knew everyone. He was stopped every few feet by people who hugged him or kissed his cheek. Robby stood by, a silent awkward shadow, a tight polite smile plastered on his face.
He felt like an accessory, Jack’s “plus one”.
“JACKIE ABBOT!” A drag queen in six-inch heels appeared out of nowhere and pulled Jack into a tight hug. “You old bastard - where have you been?”
“Working, my love.”
“You’re a terrible liar. Good thing you’re still hot as fuck, baby.” The drag queen noticed Robby. “And who’s that handsome fellow you’re dragging along? Never saw him before. Your toyboy?”
Jack smiled. “That’s Michael, my boyfriend.”
That word still hit Robby square in the chest - and he loved to hear it.
The drag queen tilted her head, eyeing Robby up and down, then also pulling him into a tight hug, kissing his cheek with a loud smacking sound. “So nice to meet you, Michael. I’m Emily Dick-inson and I can’t blame Jack for hiding you. You’re adorable.”
Robby blushed instantly and mumbled something back. Emily stepped back again, grinning. “I love him” he announced toward Jack. “I love a big shy guy.” He paused. “I need to run now but let’s have drinks later, okay? Need to know all about how you guys met.”
He waved and hurried away, his dress swinging behind him.
Robby blinked. “Okay.”
Jack laughed. “Welcome to the community, baby.”
They were barely able to walk a hundred feet before a man with a magnificent full beard and a kilt made of rainbow tartan stopped Jack. “Jack! My god, it’s been ages” he exclaimed, pulling him into a rib-crushing hug.
“Declan, you look amazing” Jack laughed, clapping him on the back before turning toward Robby. “This is my boyfriend, Robby. Robby, that’s Declan. He does the best drag in the city.”
“Don’t tell that to Emily, huh?” Declan said with a grin. “That old bitch is acting crazy today.” Then he turned his piercing kohl-lined eyes on Robby, a warm smile spreading across his face. “So, you’re the one who’s been keeping our boy so busy he can’t even come out for a drink.” Then he held out a hand. “Nice to meet you. And I can’t blame Jack to be honest. If you were my boyfriend you wouldn’t leave the bed until I say so.”
Jack started laughing while Robby felt a flush of warmth creeping up his neck.” Um.” he managed, his voice a little shaky. “It’s um… nice to meet you too.”
Declan winked. “The pleasure is all mine, handsome. You’ve got a good one here. Don’t ever let him go. And if you want to, just hide this prosthetic leg of his.”
“Declan!” Jack exhaled, still laughing. “Fuck you.”
Declan shrugged unapologetic. “Need a trick or two up your sleeve as a gay man, right?”
He winked toward Robby again, then gave a small wave and disappeared into the crowd again.
They found a spot near the barricades to watch the parade. Robby looked around, still feeling a little overwhelmed, his hand grabbing the cold metal while Jacks hand rested warmly on his back.
Then - “Jack!”
They turned around. A woman with short red hair was standing behind them, carrying a toddler. Another woman stood behind her, holding a stroller.
Jack immediately lit up. “Sara! Oh my God!”
He stepped toward her and pulled her into a tight hug - or as tight as it was manageable with a tiny person sitting on her arm.
“And that’s Michael, I assume?” he asked, nodding toward the toddler with the curly hair.
She nodded. “Yeah. Two years old now with very big opinions.”
“I can’t believe I’m seeing you with a child. Not after meeting you in that bar where you let strangers do shots from your body. “Jack grinned, then reached behind him, dragging Robby closer. “So, that’s a fun one then. Sara, this is my Michael.”
Sara’s eyebrows shot up. “Your Michael like in boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Like in boyfriend boyfriend?”
Jack laughed. “Yeah, Sara. Boyfriend boyfriend.”
“Holy shit!”
The woman behind her started laughing. “You owe me twenty bucks, sweetheart.”
“I absolutely do” she shot back, before pointing at Jack. “I told her you’d never settle down.”
“That’s just plain rude” Jack replied dryly.
Sara shrugged. “I can’t believe I’m seeing Dr. Jack Abbot in a committed relationship. You’ve been a real slu-oh.” She stopped, suddenly remembering she carried a very awake and very listening toddler on her arms. “Um, you’ve been wild in the past. Jack. I’m so glad you found your person then.”
Robby blushed.
“Nice to meet you, Michael. You guys need to come over for dinner soon, okay?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah sure.”
Sara smiled. “Great. We need to run now, but lets meet up soon, okay?”
They hugged again.
Robby watched Sara disappear into the crowd. “Huh.”
Jack immediately looked over. “Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“I don’t like the sound of this ‘huh’.”
Robby shook his head once, a tight feeling in his stomach. “So, you’ve been wild in the past?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “She’s exaggerating.” Then he noticed the weird look on Robby's face. His face softened immediately. He slid an arm around Robby’s waist. “Hey.”
Robby looked away, pretending to watch the parade that began to move slowly.
“Mike.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re such a shit liar, Robinavitch” Jack said with a smile, before leaning over, kissing his temple. “You’re the only one I’m wild with now.”
“Good.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “Very possessive for a guy who didn’t know he liked men ten months ago.”
Robby started to laugh. “Shut up.”
A group of older men and women walked by, their arms linked carrying a banner that read “Pittsburgh’s Pioneers”. Robby felt a lump form in his throat. These were the people who had fought the fights, who had endured so much hatred and fear, so that the rest could stand here today. So that Robby could stand here today, holding the hand of the man he loved, out in the open.
Jack squeezed his hand, his gaze following Robby’s. “I’m so fucking thankful for them” he said softly.
Robby nodded softly, his throat too tight to speak. He looked around him - really looked for the first time. He saw the love and the laughter, the defiance and the pride. He saw the young lesbian couple kissing without a care in the world, the gay couple lifting their child onto their shoulders, the transgender woman waving joyfully from a convertible.
And for the first time - he saw himself.
And slowly, piece by piece, the discomfort and the insecurity began to melt away, replaced by something else. Too small to really pay attention to, but lingering. A sense of belonging.
A sense of coming home.
The thought lingered quietly in the back of his mind as another float rolled past them, music blasting so loudly he could feel the bass vibrating through the barricade beneath his hands. The people dancing on top of it were dressed in bright neon colors, throwing handfuls of merchandise into the crowd.
Something flew directly toward him.
Years of emergency medicine kicked in before his brain had a chance to process it. His hand shot and he caught it cleanly without even looking.
“Nice catch sexy!” somebody yelled.
Robby blushed and looked down. He blinked, then looked again.
Jack followed his gaze and immediately doubled over laughing.
It was a condom. A rainbow-colored condom. A very large rainbow-colored condom.
Robby held it out while the crowd around him started cheering.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked flatly.
Jack was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “As far as I’m concerned you know exactly what to do with condoms.”
Robby blushed and turned the packet over. Read the label. Turned it over again. “Might be a little tight.”
Jack started laughing again, smacking his arm. “Subtle.”
Robby grinned, then tucked it carefully into his pocket. Jack noticed immediately.
“You’re keeping it?”
Robby shrugged. “It’s free.”
Jack still chuckled. “You’re a doctor with a reasonable income.”
“Do you know how expensive med school was?” Robby replied with a deadpan expression before smiling.
A real smile. A smile that came easy and comfortable.
Jack’s laughter gradually faded. His eyes softened as he looked at Robby. There was something unbearably fond in his expression.
“You okay?” Robby asked, his brows furrowed.
Jack nodded. “Yeah. It’s just…” He squeezed his hand. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here.”
And even though the noise of the parade continued around them the world felt quieter for a moment. Robby squeezed his hand back. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Me too.”
Jack’s face broke into a wide smile. He leaned in and kissed him, a deep passionate kiss that was so full of love it was almost painful.
For once it didn’t feel reckless. It didn’t feel forbidden. It felt like a celebration.
The crowd around them started cheering and whistling. Robby felt a blush creep up his face but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was from pure unadulterated happiness. Jack’s hand slipped up his neck, holding him there while the kiss deepened.
“Get a room!” someone shouted amused.
“No way, I want to watch” someone shouted back, earning some laughter.
Robby wrapped his arms around Jack, pulling him close. “I love you” he whispered.
Jack held him tight. “I love you too” he murmured, then added a little louder: “Welcome to Pride, Michael.”
The following little ficlet I wrote has been fully inspired by one of @roobydoos beautiful pieces of art.
All of which I want to eat btw because they're so gorgeous and scribbly. Thank you for all the work you do.
Please take a look at the wonderful art (here)
and also look at all the other bits if you haven't come across their blog yet! Positively scrumptious all around!!!
Now, I've been wanting to make Jack suffer for a good minute, so be wary of robby-typical active suicidal ideation as you venture forth!
rabbot | 2.4k | heavy-ish angst | eventual comfort | Jack finally gets to break down | but only after suffering from almost losing Robby
His last text had been about nothing at all.
Now that was half-normal. Robby texted about nothing all the time. Little observations, complaints about charting, the occasional photo of something he'd passed on the way home that he thought to be funny.
Nothing texts were Robby's entire thing and Jack had gotten more than accustomed to reading them the same way he'd read a chart at work.
Not for what they said, but for everything laying underneath.
Last Tuesday it had been a photo of a pigeon for example. It'd been sitting on a fire hydrant outside the hospital, looking profoundly disappointed in everything and was sent around 11pm on Jack's day off with no caption whatsoever.
No caption was needed for him to understand what Robby meant to say: 'Going home now, probably taking the long way home. In need of some air. But I'm okay.'
So as a response, he sent a singular question mark and got three laughing emojis back.
More than enough.
The week before that, a blurry photo of the river taken from his bike. No caption on that one either but… it meant something very different. It had been Robby's day off, sent to Jack just before the night shift attendings bed time was coming up.
'I needed to see something that wasn't the hospital' was the message here.
This time he'd sent back
nice view 10:56am
and got the reply of
not bad 11:01am
End of conversation, which translated to 'I'm alright, don't worry' in whatever language they'd crafted between them over the years.
And Jack had only half-worried, which, with Robby, was about as good as it ever got.
Today though, was the bad day following two worse ones.
Jack had been late to handover, held back by traffic that he would certainly see again in form of the people responsible for it on a gurney when he finally arrived.
Being late to handover though, meant not seeing Robby.
It meant not being able to gauge how he was holding up. How he was doing. What he wasn't showing.
So Jack texted,
Take it easy tonight. Take a bath or sumthin. Eat. 7:36pm
got a reply
haha. yeah okay 8:17pm
And then? Nothing.
Jack had noticed around 6, when he'd sent something back and watched it sit there, unread. He told himself that Robby was most likely either showering, preparing something to eat to have a chill night or asleep; entirely deserved as the man ran himself into the ground during his day shifts and then usually acted surprised every time his body decided to stage a revolt.
Jack told himself that at 11 too, when his call to ease his unsettled mind went right to voicemail. And then again at 1.
By 4am he'd stopped telling himself things and started just… watching his phone whenever he had the time to in between patients.
Waiting for a reply left him restless and very much lacking the concentration he needed for his work. His brain was busy running a million differentials he didn't even want to name.
The kind that made him reach for his phone every twenty minutes just to be disappointed that there was nothing coming back.
Robby. 6:58am
He'd sent that at the end of his shift, as if it would do something.
It didn't.
Come afternoon, Jack had a very controlled, very reasonable handle on the situation. Which was exactly why he had not gotten a single second of sleep and was now standing outside Robby's building with his key already in his hand. His jaw was tense and he could barely remember the drive over if he was being honest.
But he was fine. He was being fully rational.
He certainly hadn't spent close to twenty hours waiting for a reply from someone who was usually chronically texting him random shit most waking non-working hours. And Jack Abbot who had spent the better part of his adult life learning to decipher those messages and trust his gut with them, start to ignore that now.
That was all this was. Pattern Recognition. Clinical instinct.
He was fine.
The apartment was dark when he stepped inside after opening the door as calmly as he could. No light was turned on and the only audio came from the shitty radio in Robby's living room, whose sound Jack had grown oddly accustomed to by now.
The most telling sign were the closed blinds though. Jack clocked them immediately and felt that information settle somewhere right behind his sternum, pressing onto his lungs. Having learned it the same way he learned to read another person's baseline; incrementally and without either of them acknowledging the knowledge was happening.
Blinds down meant Robby had pulled inward so much that even the light felt too much.
Blinds down was not good, but it wasn't the worst either.
Jack moved through the apartment quietly. Out of pure habit. The kind of quietness he had learned in places where waking someone up wrong could lead to things worse than just a solid yelling.
Expecting him in the bedroom, sleeping away all the bad in the world, Jack was almost shocked to find him laying on the couch. On the top of several thinner blankets, still dressed in what looked like yesterday's clothes and… not hurt.
The thing that unraveled something in him so fast his hand shot out to the doorframe without him deciding to do it. Just- Needing to hold onto something for a second.
Okay.
Robby was okay.
He was still here, with him. Sleeping what seemed like peaceful-
The side table.
Jack crossed the room in a heartbeat, couldn't have stopped himself if he had dared to try. A glass of water was sitting on the little wooden side table sticking out over the arm of the couch, which… was fine, normal even. But there was also a pill bottle laying on its side, label facing away, and Jack's brain war already running the math before his hands had even picked it up and turned it over.
Robby's name. A prescription date.
He turned it over, tried to count the remaining pills and- he couldn't tell, couldn't tell how many—
His brain lurched toward it, that clinical instinct that hadn't once failed him in all those years of trauma work and here he was and just. Couldn't. He couldn't make the goddamn numbers of sleeping pills mean anything because his hands were shaking in a way they hadn't ever since-
A long time.
That thought was buried hard and fast before it could even finish forming and begin pulling him somewhere far away from this room, the couch and the specific problem laying right before him.
He had learned that trick a long time ago too. You stayed where your feet were. Or your foot. You deal with what's in front of you. No matter what.
What was in front of him was Robby, not moving. Blinds down. Pill bottle laying on its side, barely carrying any pills.
Robby.
Once again, Jack moved before he made the conscious decision to, a knee on either side of him, one hand going to steady himself, fingers stretched around a thin pen light, while the other grabbed the others jaw instinctively.
"Hey." It came out much rougher than intended. "Hey. Open your eyes, come on. Look at me-"
Robby made a sound. A sound that was indistinct and undefinable but alive.
"Robby." Jack's thumb pressed into the hinge of his jaw, tilting his face up so that he could click on the pen light, checking his best friends pupils. Equal. Reactive. Okay. That's okay.
Unfortunately, the relief didn't land quite the way it should have because he still didn't know, still couldn't tell what had happened and not knowing was currently eating him alive.
"What did you take."
Not a question, because Jack wasn't asking him. He was demanding. Demanding an answer that would make him understand why those beautiful brown eyes that opened so slowly were looking glossy. Why they were barely focusing on him even though he'd turned the pen light away to be kind to Robby's retina.
His chest started to tighten like a tripwire pulled taught. Harsh and unwelcome.
"Jack?"
"What did you take."
"Nothing-" Weak hands came up, pushing at his arms, trying to get his wrists away, but their strength was laughable. Laughable enough to force Jack to swallow the bile rising in his throat.
"Nothing- Jackie- I just- I took my meds and slept-"
Jackie.
Jack knew exactly when Robby used that word and why. That specific register of it too, shaky and full of pressed air that only surfaced when he was scared. When he was trying to stop Jack from doing something. When he knew how bad he'd fucked up and needed time to process how to come clean.
Time Jack was not willing to give him, staring down at him with a mixture of fear and frustration. As if the other would slip right through his fingers if he didn't hold on tightly.
Then he forced himself back, settling back into Robby's lap and pulled his hands back. Shaking hands that didn't seem to still even when he clenched them into fists; so he spread them out on his thighs instead, ignoring how the edge of his prosthesis uncomfortably buried into his liner.
With his fingertips pressing into his flesh to keep them busy, he took a deep breath, breathing out through his nose. Slow and deliberate to ease his body from the fear and providing what the other needed. A strong, calm front to come clean to.
Robby looked at him for a long moment; something moving behind those tired and still slightly glassy brown eyes that could easily be read as guilt. Guilt and a common version of shame that was found within his gaze too often for comfort.
"I didn't take anything," he finally said, just to continue with a quieter tone. "Just- thought about it."
Although he'd been still before, Jack froze into a statue, calmly looking at the way Robby's lower lip was quivering and he kept looking further and further to the side. Away from Jack. Away from it all.
"I had them in my hand." Robby's jaw was tight, the words a lot more pressed than usual. "And then I just- I put them back. I don't know why I didn't- I was so tired. So tired of it all-" For a moment, Jack thought it would happen but Robby stopped and stuttered out a semi-controlled exhale.
"I put them back."
For a good moment, the room was quiet again, meaning that the only thing audible was Robby's shallow, quickening breaths and Jack's heartbeat hammering in his ears. It was only through that specific observation, that Jack became aware of the fact that he'd been holding his breath through Robby's search for words.
He let it go and turned his head to look at the bottle he'd thrown onto the side table and then back at Robby who still wasn't looking at him. Who was doing that thing he always did when he had said something so true that he felt in need of bracing for the response. Almost as if he was waiting to find out what it cost him this time.
Jack lifted one hand and put it over the back of one of Robby's, searching for that physical connection, trying to calm the other down. Provide the strength he needed.
Something that had been wound very, very tight for the past twenty hours suddenly just… gave.
He folded forward. Neither graceful nor controlled; nothing like the way he usually moved through the world, with his heart in his throat but his hands steady because they had to be.
Right now, he just folded, forehead dropping to Robby's shoulder, his arms wrapping around the man as best as they could, pulling himself in hard enough that Robby made a small surprised sound against his ear.
Alive. Warm. Breathing.
Here.
"You fucking asshole-" Jack cursed into his shoulder, his voice a wrecked mess that he hadn't heard from himself in a long time and yet couldn't bring himself to care about. "Twenty hours, Robby. Twenty hours of not-" Stopping mid-sentence, he swallowed hard, his hands fisting the back of Robby's shirt. "You couldn't answer the phone. Couldn't send me a single-"
Even if it had taken a moment, Robby's arms had finally come up around him. Slow and careful, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to do it. Like he was still waiting to find out what the move would cost him long term.
"I know," Robby muttered back, shame and guilt ever-present. "I know, I'm-"
"Don't." The word came out muffled but Jack didn't move. Couldn't quite yet. Even just thinking about moving made him only want to hold on tighter. "Don't fucking apologize. I just-"
His throat tightened.
Jack'd had plans for these types of conversation. Several actually, mulling them over again and again, whenever one of these moments appeared. Calm and Practical. How he needed to talk about what happened and what would come next.
After all Jack was supposed to be the steady one, the way he had always been the rock Robby needed him to be.
But none of those plans had accounted for the reality of those pills and Robby. None of those plan had accounted for Jack.
"I love you," he said." You hear me, brother? I love you and I need you to be here and you can't- You can't just go quiet on me like that and leave me not knowing if-"
Again he stopped, because he didn't trust himself to continue. If he continued, he would say more things he hadn't anticipated to say.
Luckily, that wasn't necessary as Robby's arms grew tighter around him.
For a long moment, neither of them said a word. Jack kept his face buried in Robby's shoulder, ignoring the way his eyes were stinging as he let himself breathe the other in. Alive. Present. Here. And slowly… incrementally, that thing in his chest started to loosen its grip.
"I've got you," Jack finally broke the silence. Quieter now. More like himself again. "Okay? Whatever it is you need. I've got you, brother."
Robby only pressed his face into Jack's hair, instead of an answer.
For now… there wasn't the need for one.
For now, Jack was okay just holding him tight and never letting him go again.
