the gentle knock of robby’s shoulder against his hurts in a way the night attending is not quite prepared for. a slight grimace flitting across his face, a too sharp inhale before he can lock it all away. exhaustion of his own weighs heavy on every part of him. a deep rooted, whole body ache from the recent ‘vacation’ of pushing himself to his absolute limit, laden down with tactical gear he has not worn in over a decade. still, he imagines it better hidden than the fatigue the other man wears so openly. even at this newfound worst, jack doesn’t slump so completely against the desk. doesn’t roll his neck with grunts that, were jack less exhausted, might elicit at least untoward thoughts about the man.
“not sure i like you when you’re honest,” jack replies, trying for that same tone robby had started with. he’s pretty sure it falls flat. the return bump of his shoulder against robby’s is intended to be just that. a bump. a playful thing to take the unintentional sting out of his words. but he lingers, a harsh huff at the pain already starting to radiate up from his leg from even this slight shift in weight. “think i should’ve asked john come in today after all.” there’s too much truth in that statement, so jack quickly continues, “at least he’d be optimistic for my benefit.”
it’s on the tip of his tongue as he falls silent. a quiet and too desperate plea for the other man to stay beyond the boundaries of his shift. just a few minutes more. minutes that will undoubtedly stretch into an hour. an hour into two, if jack is lucky enough for robby’s misfortune. anything, everything that robby might be willing to spare. it aches fiercely somewhere deep within him, the distance that is between them. distance that he has played a direct role in creating. ever since he had decided all that time ago — not enough time ago — to move to nights in an attempt to avoid the ghost that lingers in his memory, in the halls of a house she had never even set foot in. part of him hopes robby will see it without him having to speak it. that he’ll offer to stick around for a bit until jack gets his bearings.
but jack won’t speak it, can't speak it. he won’t break that fragile pretense of doing well, of handling everything well. too much talk of therapy, of the good it does. he should have kept his mouth shut about it. but how could he have? it does help, however marginally. and he needs for robby to consider it. ( yes, he knows he’s a goddamn hypocrite. extolling the virtues of therapy all while knowing that he’d been planning for over a month what he’s finally done. )
“any fun plans after this? you’re free and clear to leave pretty early in the night for once. be a shame to waste it on sleep when you've got the next two off.”
