#m.jackabbot

[quillsofmelancholy]

❝ hey. i’ve got you. ❞ from robby for jack

His mind had slipped. Just a fraction of a second. It was a sound or maybe a spice , he wasn't sure. He just knew he had floated away to a world of sounds and smells of tea and desert. Not even bad, just a distant memory like closing your eyes and listening to the ocean. That daydreaming phase was enough for the food he was preparing to burn.

"Ah Shit." he muttered under his breath. Hopping to the kitchen, he opened the oven. Now he wasn't the most skilled cook in the world, but he could cook up some things. As he went for the pan, his hand touched the hot metal. In his haste he hadn't properly covered his hand. "FUCK" he yelped as he let go, all of it just crashing to the floor.

Jack deeply sighed , now standing in a mess of a kitchen, a hand angry and pulsing, while the other holding the counter for balance. He wasn't bad at balancing, but turning to the sink with potatoes and sauce all around was not really the easiest task , especially to avoid any slipping.

❝ hey. i’ve got you. ❞ Of course the commotion had alerted Robby. Jack turned his head as he was coming to help him. There was relief in a way. Mostly because he was kind of trapped. "I'm fine, It's not too bad. The floor had it worse " He insisted on reassuring his husband as he guided his hand under the cool water. His eyes stayed on Robby, not on his hand. And every time he did , he knew that Robby really got him, just as he got Robby. They both had shadows with which they were dancing, and yet they were always present for each other. He felt lucky for that, felt like he wouldn't have come as far as he did in therapy without him.

He shifted his head to the side. "Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you're focused on something.. " Jack smiled softly and stole a kiss but grimaced. "That burn is gonna annoy me like a motherfucker, isn't it? " he made a face.

[quillsofmelancholy]

@taleswritten

Jack preferred the night shift. It reminded him of combat mostly because you never knew what would come in at night. It allowed him the same adrenaline rush, the same expectations in focus and crisis management. In a way, in the chaos of the night, he found stability and a purpose to remain calm.

But some nights were still harder than others, some nights reminded him of things he was trying to archive , to process. Some of what he had lived in deployment was still raw. He was working through it all with a therapist. His mind was far from being his weak point.

That weak point, was usually his leg. At the end of his shift, waiting for Robby to appear so they could have their briefing. He barely could stand. He found a more quiet corner in the resting area. Taking the leg off was painful and as he undid the layers, that's when the cramps began. He clenched his jaws and tried to breathe through the pain. It wasn't just the muscles, it was what wasn't there anymore. He somehow felt it lower, and while his eyes were looking at the floor, his brain was still stuck at what was there before. A rational part of his head knew that it would pass, that he had lived through that trauma, he would be fine ... that did not make it any less painful.

As the door opened, he shot his head up, only to relax. Not all of his colleagues had to see this , see him like that. More vulnerable , but the face that met his eyes as that door opened was a friend, a very close friend. "My leg sensed you coming, became as constipated as you...as you can see..." he greeted his peer before letting out a long murmured fuck as he tried to massage his thigh.