The System
When Jack and Robby first decided to move in, one of their earliest conversations was post-shift mood.
Sure it was nice to wake up just as your person was curling up to sleep and vice versa, but there were those rough shifts. The ones that came with too many traumas, too much frustration, or it was simply too hard to get the smell of blood and antiseptic out of their nostrils. On those days neither of them wanted to talk.
They should talk about those shifts. Both of their therapists said that they should.
But Jack and Robby knew deep in their bones that if they were pushed to talk, it would have the opposite effect. Withdrawing. Snapping. Shouting matches.
So they made it work.
If Robby came home and curled up into Jack's lap without saying a word, all Jack would have to do is ask for a sign. Thumbs up meant exhausted but okay to talk. Thumbs down meant bad shift, talk later.
And he'd listen. Jack would stroke his hair and feed him and let him sleep while old reruns droned quietly on the TV.
If it was a bad pain day, Robby would fetch his meds and the mirror and let him listen to the police scanner until he was rested.
The hand signals gave them space to process and the reassurance that when they were ready, their person would be ready and waiting with open arms.