You shaved your bush? [disappointed]- Jack/ Robby, 6.6k, E
A little Rabbot Drabble with Trans man Jack shaving his bush for a date, and accidentally sending a nude to his Good and Long Time Friend Robby, who is totally chill and not weird about it at all. Crack (tiktok trend inspo) treated semi seriously.
TW: Pussy/ cunt/ cock used for Jack. Mentions of Jack's dead wife a lot because I love including her. Mention of suicidal ideation from Jack post his wife's death.
unbeta'd, might whack on ao3 later
Jack would like to think, at the grand old age of fucking fifty, he's above shit like this. Yet here he is, propping his leg up at a frankly stupid and awkward angle on the shower bench so he can shave his goddamn stupid pussy. It's not easy either, he hasn't done this shit since- fuck- since pre- army.
You know what? He doesn't think he's shaved anything below his own jaw in over thirty years.
He closes his eyes and tilts his head into the spray of water, battering against his cheeks and his eyelashes.
He doesn't really want to continue. But…half his hair is down the drain and he has a stupid lopsided mocking inverted landing strip stretching down half of his cunt. So he either gives up and never messages Ramone back, does a little of what the ER kids call ghosting and lets the hair grow back, or he sucks it up and commits.
Jack bites at his lip.
Fuck it. This is ridiculous. Jack did active service he can shave his fucking pussy.
He commits.
Slowly, bit by bit, his greying hairs circle and disappearing down the drain. With the hair on his head the grey came thick and fast, kinda like the way the frost takes at a field- slow and patchy and then before you can blink it's just there. The morning stretches out, and the frost permeates. Between his legs was another system entirely, a slow creep, moss covering thick branches in a damp forest. Patches of it are still ruddy and brown, with curling grey hairs almost white between them.
Well, they used to be between them, but there's nothing to be between anymore is there? Just smooth skin.
Except that's not right either, because Jack has kinda made a hack job of it. A fact that kinda pisses him off given he's been sat here long enough for the water to go all lukewarm and for his stump to go pink and tender.
To add insult to injury, as he's been sat here contemplating every stupid choice in his stupid life, two texts have come through- flashing up on his watch.
Robby, first- can you swap thursdays? langdon's being difficult. Jack rolls his eyes and ignores it for now. Robby has access to his work calendar and his personal calendar- he knows he can do the swap and he knows Jack will say yes. No matter how many times he sighs brother, just change it and beep me Robby will send the unnecessary text anyway. Jack's mostly given up. He won't tell Robby it still makes him smile.
The second is from Ramone, who Jack went on a date with last week after finally succumbing to the sinking combination of both loneliness and the expectation that he really should be moving on. He can see it in the faces of his friends and family and even his colleagues now. When Jack flashes a smile or flirts in one moment and then closes it down the next. Jack personally doesn't really think there should be a fuckin' time limit on how much time he gets to grieve both Lizzie- in her entire wonderful damning complexity- and also the future he thought he was locked in for.
So now he's here, shaving his cunt for a, well, cunt who had managed to make Jack laugh and who wasn't unattractive and who seemed to be chill on all three of Jack's screening tests- the trans thing, the leg thing and the military thing. He's not quite gotten around to the dead wife thing yet though, maybe he should start swapping that out for the military one, that didn't seem as pressing as the other three for a hook up. Then again, people can be fucking weird about the military.
Which is what this is, really. Jack isn't that disillusioned.
He glances down at his watch- you still there big guy lol- and scrunches up his nose.
Ugh, fuck, Jack wishes he hadn't gotten rid of Liz's shower shit. There might have been something there to smooth the hackjob he's making. Though, he's not sure using his dead wife's six year old vanilla scented (her favourite- I like the way it smells like a little birthday cake) salt scrubs to smooth his clean shaven pussy in the hopes his grindr hookup will get his mouth on Jack's dick is… entirely morally decent.
Snickering to himself, he debates texting that to Robby, the guy loves a bit of Jack's dark humour. But… ah.
He clicks to clear the message from his watch and looks back down between his legs.
Stupidly, he thought he's be good at this. He shaves his face most days. He shaved his legs in his teens. He kinda thought it would be a little like riding a bike you know? But turns out it's not like riding a bike and one hand flat against a condensation slick tile and his razor dragging not gliding does not a good shave make. Maybe he should have changed the blade before he got in the shower. Plus his body just isn't moving where he wants- which- what the fuck is yoga even for then?
No he won't text Robby, because Robby doesn't even know he's dating. Stupid kind generous Robby. Frustratingly strangle-able at times Robby. Straight, only dates women, questionable from his place of work Robby. Handsome, rugged- nope. Fuckin' Robby fuckin' Robinavitch. Bane of his fuckin' life. Fuck.
He finishes with another go across the now smooth skin, rinses off, towels down, and hauls himself over to his bed. Thumbing his whats-app open, he quickly shoots off a thumbs up to Robby- laughing as he imagines the man ire. We are not that old Jack, you've got another decade at least before you can send me that shit. Jack's not sure how a little yellow thumb can be passive aggressive but go off he guesses. Theres a worryingly short response time from Robby given he's at work, but the little red angry emoji makes him snort.
Navigating to the chat with Ramone seeps the smile from his face.
He scrolls up to the offending message. I don't know Jack, bet ur one of those tough rugged men with a hardwood floor 👀
Jack might have been out of the game for a hot minute, but he isn't fuckin' dense. He knows a preference expressed in a joke when he sees it. Even if he had to embarrassingly google hardwood floor.
With a sigh he glances at his bedside clock and the green LED numbers blink at him. He's got a couple of hours before he needs to think about getting ready for the date, and he wants to- hmm- set an expectation maybe. So he decides, as any good practical sound thinking man would, to do research. He doesn't have a stellar publishing record for nothin'.
So he navigates to reddit and ignores his usual haunts (r/weightroom, r/nutrition, r/advancedfitness) and instead takes a deep breath and takes a deep dive into r/ftmporn in the hopes that someone out there can give him a good idea of what sorta angles might work.
It's sort of illuminating. Jack isn't a porn guy by nature. But he is an equal opportunity lover and well, watching a lithe toned guy get bent over and roughly fucked in the woods- face pressed down into the dirt- well that would get anyone going a little wouldn't it?
Ignoring his now suspiciously wet cunt, he manages to find a smattering of inspiration pictures and sets off on the mortifying adventure of trying to take a good nude at fifty years old. Getting the photo takes multiple tries and most of his patience, but he manages to get something semi decent. One arm raised, head resting on his wrist and flexing to show off his biceps, the bulk of his chest and his scars proudly on show, prosthetic off and his good leg bent at the knee. He angles his phone kinda low, so that the main focus is his cunt, smooth and with his dick hard and jutting out from his folds, a little glistening lower down that he's left cos he thinks it doesn't look half bad. Ramone can pretend it's because he's thinking about him. Whatever. It's a little awkwardly angled, kinda too high- but he wants his face in it (mistake? Maybe) and he doesn't want to look like an idiot.
All in all, he thinks as he edits the brightness up a bit to smooth out some of the little nicks to his skin where the razor caught, it's not bad.
Jack looks at it, and rolls the concept around in his head.
Christ, it's really getting under his fucking skin isn't it? Maybe it would have been easier if Ramone had been more of a dick and just asked Jack to shave, then he coulda gone all offended and righteous and refused and bitched about men and rolled his eyes. But no. Jack just had to panic and squirm and roll about in the feelings for hours, try and sleep it off, not sleep it off, then whack off his own bush. Super normal decision making Jack. Thirty years of getting used to feeling so secure with someone, and now some small mean voice that he thought he'd grown out of is showing up tonight uninvited. Way to crash the party. Now he's wondering if maybe what he had with Liz was never the baseline. If maybe everyone else has been doing this the whole time, second guessing every aspect of dating, and he just got to skip the line.
Worst off, he wonders if Ramone will like it. Wether it lives up to his expectations and fantasies. Even though he doesn't particularly care for Ramone, he might care for… hmm.. approval he guesses? Knowing that he's playing the game right and deserves a place on the field again. Put me in coach and all that.
He looks at the picture again.
It is a good fantasy, after all. He looks good.
Okay. Right. He clicks on the little send button from his photos and navigates over to whatsapp, quickly clicking on Ramone before he can chicken out. He cycles through a million and one possible captions and hates every single one. So he goes for the most cliche he can think of cos fuck it, whatever. He watches his fingers type out for you? I can be yeah. There, making it known he's made the effort, even though he wants to roll his eyes at himself.
Send.
Swoosh.
*
It takes around fifteen minutes before Robby gets chance to look at his phone properly.
He'd seen the message from Jack pop up, but then Whitaker has presented, and then Santos, back to back like the ER siblings they are, jostling shoulders and scrapping over his attention. Sorry Jack.
Robby pops his back, arms stretching behind him, as he shifts towards the break room and slips in- thankfully- unimpeded and goes straight for the coffee.
If Jack has changed his mind about Thursday Robby is going to be pissed. Not that it would be Jack's fault- but he's having a day already and scheduling makes his head thick and heavy. But his lock screen just indicates a picture from Jack. Curiously, he opens it up as he sips at his coffee-
- and promptly chokes the black sludge back into the mug.
From J.Rabbit 🐰 [17.55]: [image] for you? I can be yeah.
Is that? Robby scrambles for his glasses, putting them on and peering down at his screen and yeah- yes- that's- that Jack Abbot's face alright, and that's his- Robby swallows hard mouth filling with saliva. He blinks, but the picture doesn't go away.
His tongue feels thick in his mouth as he takes it in. Jack's got a soft little smile on his face, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in that way that always makes Robby's chest feel tight with fondness. His hair is damp, like he just got out of the shower, and the pinkening evening glow makes it look like the little grey strands are alight. The curve of his biceps are something that Robby allows himself an allotted amount of time to look at normally. He doesn't wanna be that pervy bisexual friend that is weird about his incredibly attractive best friend. So he manages it. He's not managing it now. Now he lets his eyes trace over the swell of the muscle and down to the broadness of Jack's chest- which has a little smattering of hair, then down his navel, the clearly shaved snail trail to his-
His cunt is soft and pink, shower warmed he guesses. One of his legs is hitched up and it offers a tantalising tease of his cock, plumped up and looking like it could really do with Robby's tongue on it. Like. Asap. Thats not even accounting for the little hint of wetness lower down, making his skin glisten.
Would he let Robby dip his tongue down there, circle his hole and press inside until he can feel Jack clench around him? Would he take his fingers, one then two and eventually stretching him to three? Let him lick around the stretch, feel at the seam where his fingers and his hole meet, feel the drag of them in and out of his cunt against his tongue, catalogue him on his tastebuds. Would he? Might he?
Robby feels himself starting to thicken in his scrubs.
for you? Yeah- it's definitely not for Robby. That much is vastly apparent.
This isn't even the first time.
When he was in his teens his friend Talia, who volunteered to cajole the kids with him at their youth group, had been in charge of developing photos from camp. And she's handed him a small white envelope with his pictures in, and then come running frantically to find him not even half an hour later. Which, Robby thinks, was fair because inside his envelope was a single picture of Talia in a white conservative bra and skirt. Michael please, you can't tell anyone, you can't, please. She'd cried. Even when he assured her he wouldn't, she'd stayed convinced he'd tell somebody because in their synagogue everybody belonged to somebody. Parents sat on committees together. Bubbe's played mahjong together. Secrets never felt particularly secret.
But this one? For Talia and her ruddy red cheeks and damp eyes? He'd take it to his grave.
To J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.09]: Huh, always thought you'd be a full bush kind of guy my guy
It takes approximately ZERO seconds to realise that he should not have sent that. As he's scrambling to delete the message for the both of them the ticks turn blue. Holy shit. Where are his ER kids- he needs to be fucking defibbed. My guy? He's never said my guy in his life. Never mind the implication that Robby thinks about whats between Jack's legs.
To J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.10]: guessing wrong number brother
The picture and it's accompanying damning message disappear, just like that, as if they were never there in the first place. A blip of temporary insanity (as if this isn't the first time he's thought about Jack like this- but thinking and knowing are two very different things, and now Robby knows).
From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.11]: holy shit From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.11]: that was not for you Robby From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.11]: obviously From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.11]: good lord From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.12]: fuck me sideways christ From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.12]: any chance you can neuralyzer your mind
To J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.13]: *flash*- thanks for covering thursday brother, appreciate you
Robby feels like he's above his own body as he types. His fingers moving easy-breasy across the clacking keypad. Maybe, if he says brother enough times he can get Jack's perfect wet pussy and his dick out of his mind. Jesus fuck, he really does need to be neuralyzed. Agent K, now would be a good time, yeah? Robby laughs, borderline hysterical, seeing the image seared onto his mind every time he closes his eyes.
Jack doesn't take the out.
From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.13]: Robby I'm so sorry
Robby swallows hard. Jack deserves this, after everything, he thinks as he wills himself to have some empathy and batter down the jealousy as he types out his next message.
To J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.14]: no problem Jack, really, whose the lucky woman?
Holy fucking shit what if it's someone he knows? What if it's Mohan, they've been getting closer right?
From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.15]: guy actually From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.15]: fuck, im gonna need 3-5 business days to recover from this MINIMUM
Robby can feel his measly protein bar lunch bullying the back of his throat. Guy? Guy? What in the flying fuck is happening right now? Has he fallen down the rabbit(ha) hole, is he living through the mirrorverse?
From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.17]: for reference though I am a full bush guy
To J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.17]: do you know what a bush is? because jack that wasn't one lol
From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.17]: im going to legitimately strangle you From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.18]: for real Robby watch your back From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.18]: i did it for the date, idiot From J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.18]: seemed like he'd be into it and shit grows back right
To J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.19]: I don't know Jack, does it??? To J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.19]: need to check in on the kids before santos gets scalpel happy To J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.19]: but really, no stress To J.Rabbit 🐰 [18.20]: im glad to see youre getting back out there brother 👍
*
"Well, fucked that one hey Lizzie." Jack huffs, shaking his head a little hysterically at the urn in the corner of the room. "I think you'd laugh. I think you'd find it funny. Yeah, I'm gonna try and find it funny, I think. Real laugh, Robby seeing that, real- real hilarious."
Jack shakes his head and opens the chat to Ramone- triple checks that it is actually Ramone he's sending it to, and types out a very apologetic- sorry im not quite ready, oh I didn't mention my dead wife? Shucks, yeah, good look out there. Then he throws his phone across to the other sofa and pulls his arm over his eyes. The air he exhales comes out all pitchy, like a wounded dog whining for it's owner.
always thought you'd be a full bush kind of guy
What the fuck does that mean? No, seriously Robby- he wants to shout. What does that mean? Was it a joke? Pretty fuckin' insane thing to joke about, Robby picturing Jack's cunt in any capacity. Or maybe this is just what guys do- Jack's been around enough of them to know- and sure it was a little different, when he was fucking about in the army with another name and another gender, but he knows men. He knows not to read into the stupid shit men say. He says stupid shit all the time. So why would Robby be any different? Just cos Jack has spent years wondering what it would be like to have Robby's careful attention fully on him doesn't mean Robby has thought anything close to that about him.
But then… lucky woman.
Ding ding ding, neon light arrow, this way lies insanity.
Which is all well and good- all off that is explainable. But you know whats not? Whats gonna fucking haunt him? The. Fucking. Little. Yellow. Thumb.
Jack looks at that stupid simpsons-esque thumb and all he can think about is how Robby would rather cut his own dick off than use it. So then what the fuck. Does. He. Mean. Jack feels like a teenager again, hiding his attraction to women and sneaking around and spending every free second of his time with Lizzie, who didn't mind at all that he didn't wanna put makeup on and braid her hair and shit, but what he did wanna do was hand her a note that said 'do you like me- yes or no.'
Except he's not a teenager anymore. And Jack has long since learned that if he wants something he should fucking go for it. Full speed ahead. Within reason, of course. And Robby has always been unattainable. No point full speeding into a brick wall is there? But, hmm, see if the wall is less a brick one, and more a hollywood action movie set styrofoam… well that would be different. Jack doesn't mind a little bruising, if the payoff could be that good.
To Robby Rob [19.30]: cancelled the date. To Robby Rob [19.31]: come over?
His head throbs, but this way he'll know.
He'll know.
*
Robby has been nervous around Jack precisely three times in the history of their friendship.
2008- Theres a new face at work and more than that, the new face is kind of funny. Funny and hot and when Robby casually mentioned his exes, his male exes, the funny and hot and sarcastic new doctor didn't even flinch. So Robby asked the funny and hot and sarcastic and buff doctor on a date. He picked out his nicest shirt and got out his expensive aftershave and then stood outside the bar nervously until Jack jogged up to him with an apologetic grimace on his face and shorts showing off his prosthetic. Sorry, sorry, Liz's car's in for it's MOT so I had to drop her off with some friends, were co-coordinating our night out like proper adults. And Robby had smiled weakly and asked, Liz? Even though he knew the shape of the answer. Oh my wife, have I not mentioned her? Shit don't tell her that she'll be insufferable about it I won't hear the end of it- shall we go in? You look nice brother. And Robby had thought- ah. Brother. Okay then.
2018- The sun is blazing down on Robby and sweat is beading at his temple. He looks down at his phone and snorts at the text from Jack- brother, I think I'm going to die why did I let lizzie talk me into this im on the cusp of being admitted to my OWN ED. He was gonna come with the guy he's been seeing- Alex, which Jack had strangely rolled his eyes at, but whatever. Maybe he was being a bit slutty at the minute but sue him. But Alex has bailed and apparently left for Europe? Who the fuck leaves for Europe with just a message after two months of fucking. So now he's a pride, alone, and having to third wheel with Jack and Lizzie at the pride in the square rally. And look- Jack's been texting him about his outfit sure, and Lizzie's vision for a homage to trans leather subcultures which Jack just thinks is an excuse to get him in some tight pants cos he's been working at his thighs lately. And Robby had dutifully laughed like a good friend. But then he sees Jack, hand in hand with Lizzie, coming around the corner in the single tightest Olivia Newton John looking pants, suspenders and one of- he guesses- Lizzie's leather jackets. Robby's mouth goes dry, his heart picks up so quickly he thinks he's probably on par with a hummingbird, and he feels like he's gonna be sick at having to spend all day with Jack looking like that. They spot him, and Jack grins, waving him over. And Robby thinks- oh. This is going to be a problem.
2019- Robby runs a red. It had only just changed, but still. He needs- he needs to get to Jack now. Right now. He shouldn't have fucking left him in the first place. One week. It's only been a week since Lizzie's accident, and he thought- Robby doesn't know what he thought, but he can't loose Jack too. Those few minutes at the red light might be the difference between his friend- his best friend- being here or not. Brother. Then a few seconds later. Robby. Another trickle of time. I don't think I can do this anymore. I don't want to do it without her I'm sorry. When he uses his emergency key to Jack and Liz' house he doesn't think he's ever, in his life, felt like this, but there Jack is slumped in the kitchen with his head in his hands, choking on his sobs.
Robby takes a breath. Whatever happens when he walks in there, at least he'll know. He'll finally know.
He raises his hand to the door and knocks.
This will make a fourth.
*
"Beer?" Jack asks, raising his eyebrows at the tension swirling thick and fast between them.
"Ah, I drove." Robby shrugs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his zip up.
"Okay, and? Stay over, walk into work tomorrow."
Robby looks over at him curiously, tilting his head a little like an inquisitive dog. "If you're sure." Robby says eventually, tentatively taking the bottle in his hand.
"What you're not even gonna comment on the basic bitch beer?" Jack huffs. "Did my nude body offend you that much?"
Okay, this wasn't his plan, but sure. Straight into it. Robby sighs, heavy and arduous through his nose like Jack is the most annoying person on the whole entire wretched planet and Jack thinks, same, sister.
"So you're not even gonna let me sit down then." Jack shrugs. Robby raises his eyebrow. "You cancelled."
"Yup." Jack stretches and walks through to the living room, kinda hoping Robby doesn't think too much about the fact he's in his prosthetic, not his crutches.
"Jack, for fucks- you going to tell me why or is this just going to keep being weird and awkward. Yes you sent me a nude, yes I saw it, yes I'm sorry I saw it, I just-"
Yeah, Jack's not in the mood for that. A body is a body. They could get past this, sure, but… "you sent a thumbs up."
"What?" Robby stalls, flopping into the sofa as Jack sits on the other one, as far away as possible.
"You sent me a fuckin thumbs up Robby, that's what about, what did you mean?"
Robby opens and closes his mouth like a fish, before drawing his whole entire face up into a frown. "You shaved your bush." Is what he settles on, kinda meek and mild and a little… disappointed?
"Oh my god." Jack groans, flopping back against the sofa and jamming the palm of his hand into one of his eyes. "Okay, new tactic seen as tho we unfortunately cannot neuralyze each other tho I god damn wish. Radical idea, for the next five minutes we're completely and genuinely honest with each other, without fear of what we say or ask, okay? Because I don't want to lose you over a picture of my cunt and a thumbs up. I can't have that Robby. That's not acceptable to me."
Robby scoffs. "Okay, and you're not going to lose me."
He peeks through the gaps in his fingers. "No?"
Robby's voice is soft when he replies, "fuck sake Jack, no. Never okay?" He steals Jack's trick, the ridiculous idiot he is, and bends down to capture Jack's gaze. His eyes sparkle. "You'll have to do more than flash me your naked mole rat pussy to scare me off."
"Man what is your problem with that?" Jack laughs, relenting and loosening his arm, taking a swig from his bottle instead. "It's just hair. You didn't even see it before."
"Yeah but- I dunno, it's your hair." Robby grumbles, looking down at the condensation beading across the bottle and dampening his fingertips. "Did you shave before? Do you normally shave?"
"No but-"
"So you shaved for him? Did he ask you to?" Robby's voice definitely has an edge, a curious, curious little edge that Jack wants to dig his feral little fingers into and tug at until it's loose and spooling.
"What is this, hmm?"
"I just don't think you should let someone make you do something you don't want to do with your body. Just because he wants it." Robby almost growls.
"So what it's all just some overprotective reaction to save me from a pussy fetish chaser?" Jack dips his voice, letting harshness slip into his tone as he narrows his eyes. He doesn't think this but he needs to ease Robby into it. "Do you not think I'm not a big boy Robby? Can I not make my own decisions?"
"I think you're a fully capable man Jack." Robby scoffs. "Thats not the point, it's-"
"Explain it to me then."
"Fuckkkkk I will if you just shut the fuck up." Robby groans, laughing into his palms. "Okay don't talk if I'm gonna say this."
Dutifully, Jack mimes zipping his lips.
"One. I didn't know you went for guys, it threw me for a second. I'm not proud of that and I'm …sorry, I guess. I just thought because you were so okay with me and my dating history that you'd tell me if this was something we could- I don't know, bond over? Is that stupid? It feels stupid now. Two." He raises a second finger. "I didn't know you were dating. I guess I just felt a little shit that you didn't say anything. And three. You say its just hair but I don't know, I don't know how you feel about that stuff because we never talk about it and that's- that's fine. More than fine, you've got your shit on lock and I respect that. But it just sits weird. Tell me to fuck off, whatever, but I don't want to think you're out there changing yourself to fit someone else, I don't know- someones fantasy or whatever. And I think you're the most- I think you're- Jack you're amazing, okay? Don't ever dim yourself for anyone."
Jack swallows and shifts a little.
"What do you mean you didn't know I went for guys? And your dating history."
"That what you take from that? Really?" Jack shrugs and makes a frantic go on gesture, because he doesn't want to touch the fact that he might be a shit friend and Robby might be right about the rest of it too. Like a bug under a microscope on a summers day, he's not comfortable with that level of examination, thanks. "Well there was Lizzie, and then you didn't date anyone else so. Only had that one thing to go off. And obviously you knew about my bisexuality- with Alex and Charlie and shit what was his name, Quinn?"
Huh. Yeah. They'd assumed they were women. Well, Jack had assumed they were women and Liz had gone of what Jack told her. He does a quick recalibration. So Robby isn't straight. His brain snags on it's gears. Calibration failed. Robby isn't straight. "But, if you go for guys, and I go for guys, and you think I'm amazing or whatever, then why haven't we fucked?"
"Holy shit." Robby hisses, placing his bottle down aggressively on the foot-table and dropping his head into both of his open palms. "What the fuck Jack."
"Is that why you were weird? Is that why you thumbsed up me?" He pins Robby with his gaze. "Level with me, no bullshit. Were you jealous because it was a guy and you didn't realise that you coulda had a stake in the game?"
It's gonna be embarassing if he laughs or something now, and Jack has completely misread this but-
"Yes." Robby's jaw twitches. "Sorry."
"No no no, no sorry this is-" Jack hums. "- good. I think. Yeah. I mean I cancelled the date because you were being weird and I thought you were having some sort of sexuality crisis over my rockin' bod."
"Sexuality crisis? I'm into men, you're the straight one."
"I'm as straight as wet spaghetti you lunatic, it's not my fault you never introduced me to your boyfriends with suspiciously gender neutral names. We only ever got introduced to the women. If anyone's straight here it's you."
"Says the guy with a wife." Robby shakes his head disbelievingly, voice incredulous.
"I wore leather to pride Robby, I'm a trans man leather daddy how is that straight?" Jack hisses back. "Just a couple of bros huh, just a couple of brothers, pals, straight guys. Just a couple of dick hating dudes. Thats us. Sure."
"Wearing leather once does not a leather daddy make. And you stared that by the way brother. I hate you. "
"You want me and you want my bush. You perv."
"Yeah well you fucking shaved it off so I don't want you anymore." Robby pouts.
Jack cackles, delighted by this insane turn of events. He'd half expected a confused, maybe blubbery, Robby in the grips of a sexuality crisis about being attracted to his best friend, but then feeling guilt because yanno, his best friend has a pussy and he's an ally you know? He's been to pride. Yada yada. But no, this is even better. This is- this might be something.
He gets up and walks himself between Robby's legs, nudging them open as he burrows closer.
Robby looks up at him with wide eyes.
"Do you not Michael? That's a shame. Shall I call up Ramone?"
"Who the fuck's Ramone?" Robby asks, tentatively raising his hands curl around his hips
"Shaved pussy guy. Likes a hardwood floor. Come on stay sharp Dr. Robinavitch."
"You're a brat." Robby mutters, dipping the tip of his finger into the waistband of his shorts. "But what are you doing Jack? What is this? Because if you just want a hook up I'm not sure I can do that. I think that would- I don't think I could come back from that. I'd rather have you as my friend forever, then whatever this is temporary."
Robby looks up at him with his big brown baby cow eyes, eyelashes fluttering and Jack's chest seizes. He loves this man. He loves him so fucking much, has and will, no matter what form their relationship is. He just hasn't ever allowed himself to think that his love could take this form. "God Michael."
"Sorry." Robby's eyes dip and Jack slots two fingers under his chin to force contact again.
"No I- don't apologise you sap. You're my best friend and I- it wouldn't be a hookup for me either. I wanna explore this. Us."
"Yeah? You sure?"
"I'm so sure. Are you? Are you gonna yip at my naked mole rat pussy?"
Robby groans, flumping his head forward into Jack's stomach as Jack cackles and cradles his head.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure. Fuck Jack that picture got me hard at work. I had to hide in the break room and then go take five."
"To jerk off?"
"No you freak." Robby snorts, peeling up Jack's t-shirt and nipping at the exposed skin just above his waistband. "Though I want to jerk you off- or suck your dick- fuck Jack your cock looked so perfect you gotta let me get my mouth on you." He moans into Jack's skin, lapping at the slight sweat and salt. "Please?"
"Jesus, okay. Yeah, alright. Bedroom though because I need to preserve your back if you're gonna rail me on the reg."
Robby rolls his eyes, taking the offered hand and letting himself be hauled to his feet. "You uh- how do you like it? I guess? I'm down to bottom."
Jack looks over his shoulder as he leads them into his bedroom, eyes narrowing.
"But you prefer to top right?"
"I want what you want."
"Not what I asked Robby." He leans forward and nips at Robby's bottom lip, but pulls away before he can kiss him, much to Robby's frustration. "Come on, you wanna fuck me? Wanna fuck my cunt hmm? Wanna stretch me out on your big-"
"Jack!" Robby grunts, gripping Jack's shoulder. "Be serious. What do you want?"
"I think you wanna shut me up, cos I'm suchhhhh a brat right? I think you wanna put me on my knees or bend me over and-"
"And what if I want to make love huh?" He snaps as he crowds Jack backwards until his legs his the bed and he collapses onto it. Robby goes to his knees and kisses the inside of his good leg, and then just above the prosthetic. "What if I want to be sweet to you, treat you like you deserve, make you feel so good all you can say is my name?"
Jack's breath hitches, but he says nothing as Robby skilfully takes off his prosthetic. He's had enough practice after all. Robby is one of precisely two people besides his medical team, who are allowed, and he's the only one left to do it.
Robby kisses the end of his stump, even though it must be a bit sweaty and gross, and spreads his big hands over Jack's thighs.
"What if I want to kiss you, and hear all your little noises, and catalogue every part if your body under my fingertips, and study which parts make you all squirmy and wet." He tugs at the end of his shorts and raises his eyebrow. Jack angles his hips up and pushes them down as fast as humanly possible. Robby huffs and peels them off completely.
"What if I want to tease you until you beg, make you cry a little, little licks to your cock and my fingers teasing your hole, would you like that Jack? Tell me, use your words baby." Robby bites at the inside of his thigh gently.
"Uh-huh." Jack dutifully replies, gripping the bedsheets tight in his fists.
"Good. You have such a pretty cock Jack, it's so big, jutting out all perfect in that photo, fuck it made me feel so insane. Would you let me play with you? Tease your cock with my fingers and my mouth until you're soaking wet? Do you like thinks inside of you- yes or no?"
"Yes, d-definitely yes. I can't-" He cuts himself off but Robby is grinning, biting at the edges of his boxer shorts.
"Poor baby boy can't cum without something inside of him filling him up huh?"
Jack groans, bucking his hips up into the air and jamming his boxers down with a frantic off, off, come on. And then he's just- bare. He's bare and his legs are spread and Robby's hands tighten on his thighs and Robby is looking at his cunt in real-time, something Jack only ever thought he'd get in his fantasies, and Robby looks ravenous.
"Jack you're- you're so hot Jack." Robby groans, resting his head on Jack's thigh and gazing at his cunt, then tilting his head back to smile at Jack. "Might need my glasses to really take this in."
"You're an idiot." Jack laughs, running his fingers through Robby's hair. "The biggest idiot in the world. Maybe… my idiot though?"
"Yeah," He presses up into Jack's touch. "Your idiot. Now can I please-" He pulls forward into Jack. "Suck your cock."
"Wait." Jack says quickly and Robby pulls back a little. "Can you- uh- kiss me? First?"
"Yeah baby," Robby breathes, clearly delighted. "I can kiss you, come on." He leverages himself up using Jack's thighs, and rearranges them until they're both on the bed, cupping Jack's face between his palms and leaning in to brush his lips over Jack's. "Hi." He whispers.
"Hi," Jack whispers back, and then they fall into each other like it's the most natural thing in the world.
