bigots of any kind !! racist, misogynist, zionist, ableist, antisemetic, islamaphobic, homophobic, transphobic, etc
pro shippers !!
i sometimes post nsfw content (tagged as such) so if you’re under 18 dni with those posts !!
DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU USE GEN AI!! LIKE AT ALL!! idc if it’s for spelling, char.ai, what ever it is. i don’t care. don’t follow me and don’t interact with my posts at all!!
MAIN FANDOMS & SHIPS:
⬫ the pitt — rabbot, garsashimi (garsantos + barantos + garshimi), miramellis (mohellis + mellis + miramel), mcvadi, jemma, mcheavens (mccollins + heavens), crownpearl, crashtos, ellisantos
⬫ community — trobed, frankie x annie
⬫ criminal minds — moreid, willifer, penemily, jj x tara, hotchgan, simmvez
⬫ house md — hilson, hudson, wamber, chameron
⬫ succession — kenstewy, roman x gerri, tomgreg
⬫ supernatural — meanstiel (destiel + megstiel), saileen, dreamhunter, dean x benny
NOTES/DISCLAIMERS:
⬫ i do not play about pitt women !! don’t come here with any disrespect towards any of them !!
⬫ very rabbot pilled and also robby criticizer !!
⬫ i don’t ship kingdon, mohabbot or hucklerobby, so don’t expect to find that here, but i don’t mind being mutuals with people regardless <3
Robby was relatively new to this gym. He didn’t know anyone and hadn’t spoken to a single soul in the few months he’d been going.
He recognized the staff and a few regulars whose training schedules more or less aligned with his. Among those familiar faces was a gorgeous man, roughly his age, maybe a little younger. He had grey curls, an insane physique, and deep green eyes that had caught Robby staring more than once. It was embarrassing every time he got caught watching, making him feel like a pervert. Still, he sized the man up every chance he got—his massive biceps, the sleeveless tops that always ended up soaked in sweat to offer a tempting glimpse of armpit hair. Then there were those thighs clad in tight gym shorts, and that ass—Robby had stared at that ass far too many times to count. Yet, each and every time, the man had just smiled. He clearly liked being appreciated, liked being watched as he exercised. Robby was more than happy to comply.
He’d been thinking for weeks about asking the guy out, trying his luck. He’d been in a bit of a dry spell lately. Well, not a true dry spell—he’d been hooking up—but it wasn’t nearly as hot as spotting someone gorgeous in the wild and being so painfully attracted to them that he’d jerked off in the gym shower stall way too many times, thinking about that pale skin and those sinful freckles.
But in the end, he never did it. He didn’t think the guy was interested like that.
For once, Robby decided to head to the sauna. He often times steered clear of it. It was always too crowded, and he was usually in a rush, never finishing his workout on time and having to speed through a shower to get to work or somewhere else.
It was a decently sized sauna, divided by gender. He briefly thought there should be a mixed one, then felt like a pervert for it, certain no woman would want that.
There was another guy inside, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t even glance at Robby when he walked in. Sauna etiquette, he guessed. You don't stare at other people because it’s rude.
Robby swallowed a groan as he sat on the damp wooden bench. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the surrounding warmth for approximately three minutes before the sweat started pouring and it became more uncomfortable than anything. But that was the point of this. So, he relaxed and let his head rest against the wall, listening as the other guy scrambled off the bench and left the room.
He was alone. He thought about adding more water to the coals, but he couldn’t be bothered to move. Instead, he just sat there, staring down at his belly for a while. It was still the same size as when he started. He hadn’t been expecting immediate results—he wasn’t stupid—but he’d hoped for just a little change.
The door opened with a hiss, and Robby tried not to look up too fast. He sort of failed, but his mouth went completely dry the moment he saw the guy step inside. His towel was slung low on his hips, revealing an absolutely insane V-line on his abdomen. His abs, his pecs—everything about him was perfect.
Robby's dick was immediately interested. It twitched, and he prayed the movement wasn't too obvious through his towel. It mustn’t have been, because the guy had no reaction as he sat on the bench to Robby’s right.
He settled into the corner. Robby could easily see him just by barely turning his head. He tried to avoid it, starting a mental list of all the bones in the human body to keep his dick from going hard, but the image that formed in his mind was the guy sitting just a few feet away. It made Robby chub up in record time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten so hard, so fast. It was embarrassing.
Glancing down, he saw his length starting to tent the towel. He needed to get out ASAP, take care of himself, and head home. Maybe he should cancel his gym membership and find another place entirely, because he didn’t think he could ever show his face here again.
He started going soft at the thought, and a rush of breath escaped him in sheer relief. Mortified, he thanked the intense heat, which surely made him look like a lobster anyway, ensuring his blush wouldn't show.
But when he glanced back at the guy, a spark raced down his spine. Their eyes met immediately. The man was already staring right at him. Flustered, Robby looked away too quickly. The guy let out a low chuckle, and Robby leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His cock was twitching now, getting mixed signals from his brain; the embarrassment was keeping the arousal from taking over completely, and Robby didn’t know which sensation he preferred.
“I’ve seen you around a lot.”
A lot was generous, Robby thought as he looked up. His eyes traced the man’s figure of their own accord, following the path of sweat droplets rolling down his chest and between his abs. Robby wanted to lick every single drop.
“Kinda new to this whole thing.”
“I can tell.” The guy sounded and looked amused, giving Robby a slow once-over.
It made Robby self-conscious about his body all over again, imagining his soft stomach spilling over his towel.
“Not like that,” the guy said cryptically. When Robby looked at him again, the man had a hand resting over his own crotch. It was just sitting there; Robby couldn’t even tell if he was hard. It could easily be a coincidence. But something inside told him the guy was trying to say something. “You’re shy.”
Robby scoffed. An astute observation if he’d ever heard one.
He wanted to say something funny in return—something witty or snarky. But all thoughts ground to a halt when the man spread his legs and firmly cupped himself through the towel, letting out a soft sound in his throat that carried across the small room, straight to Robby’s dick.
“You’re a watcher.” It wasn’t a question, but Robby still shook his head. He had never been a creep before, never stared at men or women in public.
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
Robby swallowed, his throat suddenly parched as the guy began to move his hand slowly. Long, thick fingers wrapped around his own cock, stroking it over the fabric.
Robby briefly thought about someone else walking in, but he guessed that was part of the fun. The thrill of jerking off in front of a stranger made it all the more exciting.
Robby finally placed his own hand over his dick, groaning without meaning to. The noise slipped out the moment he made contact. This was the hottest and simultaneously stupidest thing he’d ever done. Hookups were one thing, but this—whatever this was—was completely different.
Through a horny haze, he realized he wasn’t even moving his hand; he was just gripping himself tight through the towel to keep it from aching. He was too busy watching the guy. Those green eyes glimmered, and those pink lips ticked up into a dirty smirk as he teasingly began to unwrap his towel. He peeled back just one layer, his cock—thick, Robby could already tell—twitching under the final barrier.
It offered a view of the man’s pale right thigh and the sharp hip bone where the towel fell away. Just a hint of trimmed pubic hair, but he couldn’t actually see anything yet. It was pure torture. At first, he’d thought the guy was just going to jerk off under the towel and let Robby watch like the pervert he’d apparently become. But being teased like this sent his mind wild, hungry to see the man entirely naked. The urge was so strong that he shoved his own hand under his towel, his cock spurting precum as he stroked himself a few times.
“Come over here, big boy.” The guy patted the bench next to him.
Robby was standing up before he could even think about it. He hesitated after two steps, but his dick made the final decision when the guy finished unwrapping the towel completely.
His cock was gorgeous. Average in length but incredibly thick, the tip red and dripping. It made Robby lick his lips as he stopped right in front of him.
“Let me see you.” The guy tilted his head, licking his own lips in imitation.
Robby undid his towel without a second thought, too horny to consider the risks. He held the ends of the fabric and pulled it open.
His own cock sprang free. He was longer and slightly less thick, but just as hard and dripping just as much as the guy. They were a match, he thought.
“Mhm,” the guy hummed, leaning back. He fisted his own cock and began stroking lazily. “Big, just like the rest of you.” His eyes traced up Robby’s body with zero shame, his teeth catching his bottom lip as he looked up through his lashes. “I like big boys.”
It’s a dream, was the only thing Robby’s brain could manage. It’s a wet dream and I’m gonna wake up any second.
But then the guy reached out and fisted Robby’s cock in his other hand. And that was real—so real that a rope of precum shot out of Robby, nearly making him double over.
The guy seemed delighted by the reaction, his mouth widening into a big smile. The tip of his tongue peeked between his lips as he leaned forward.
He kept leaning until he took Robby into his mouth. It was warm, wet, and perfect—so perfect that Robby moaned loud enough to echo off the walls. He thrust forward, letting his towel drop to fist a handful of those gorgeous curls he’d been thinking about for months.
The guy didn’t seem to mind, or maybe he was just too busy sucking Robby's dick like he was born to do it. Robby tightened his grip and let him work, watching those pink lips stretch around his shaft, feeling the tightness of the man's throat as he swallowed him down effortlessly.
The guy had serious skill. He worked his tongue along the underside of Robby’s cock, one hand clutching hard at Robby’s thigh, nails digging in, while the other reached up to fondle his balls.
Robby could feel the pleasure building behind his eyes. His balls drew tight, and the wet, sucking sound of the guy deepthroating him coiled deep in his gut.
It probably wasn't even two minutes before he gripped the guy’s curls and tried to pull him back, trying to warn him with something other than a groan. But the guy wouldn’t pull away, and Robby inevitably came. He held the man's head, pushing as deep as he could, pouring his release down his throat for what felt like an eternity. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him while the guy swallowed and tongued his shaft through it all.
He hadn’t come that hard in ages, and it took a second for his brain to reboot as he finally pulled back to let the guy breathe. Even with white spots dotting his vision, he could see the man licking his lips and smirking up at him, looking completely unbothered after giving Robby the best head of his entire life.
The guy fisted his own cock again, stroking fast and hard now, licking his lips over and over.
Robby dropped to his knees. It was only fair to return the favor.
The guy spread his legs to give him space, guiding the tip of his dick to Robby’s lips and pushing the head inside. He tasted salty, and the heavy musk of precum and sweat made Robby lightheaded in the best way possible.
I’m sucking off a Greek god, he thought, looking up at the planes of glistening, defined muscle greeting him as he worked his mouth around that perfect cock. His lips stretched as he took him in inch by inch. He’d never been amazing at deepthroating, but he sure as hell didn’t give bad blowjobs. He pushed himself a little farther down the shaft and let saliva pool in his mouth, pulling off briefly to spit the thick slick to ease the slide of his hand. He tongued the underside of the head, drinking in the beautiful noises the man was making.
Even if someone walked in right now, Robby would keep sucking this guy's dick like he’d been starved for months. He couldn’t get enough of it—the taste, the smell, the noises, the ache settling into his jaw as he bobbed his head fast, working his hand in tandem over the parts of the shaft he couldn’t quite reach.
It was messy and loud, spit covering Robby’s hand and beard, dripping down the guy's shaft and into his grey pubic hair.
It was over too fast, just like Robby’s own release. The guy arched his back and pushed deep into his mouth before shooting off. Robby sputtered a bit, a little out of practice, but he suckled the head and greedily took all the cum into his mouth. He pulled back with a loud pop once the guy stopped twitching, opening his mouth to show the pool of cum on his tongue before swallowing it down under the attentive, lust-blown gaze of those green eyes.
His knees ached as he stood up and gathered his towel. He was breathing too fast for a room full of steam, his lungs straining for air.
“I’m Jack, by the way.”
The guy—Jack—was wrapping his own towel around his waist, smiling up at Robby. But this smile was softer, and Robby couldn’t help but smile back.
“Robby.”
“Nice to put a name to that gorgeous face.”
“Same here.”
Robby looked around, unsure of what he was supposed to say next, or if he should just leave without another word.
“I was planning to shower in twenty or so,” Jack said, his hand drifting down his abs. “If you’re interested.”
Robby was. He sat his ass right back down on the bench just in time for someone else to walk in—an older man who barely minded them sitting together in the corner before taking a seat of his own.
Jack Abbot and Michael Robinavitch have been friends for a long time.
Not just long. It was the kind of 'long' with three o's.
They lived in the same house. They knew each other's routines as if they were their own. They knew their tasks: Jack would often buy groceries and cook for the two of them, whether it was breakfast, dinner, or a rare lunch together, and Robby would clean around the house, mow the grass, and do other stuff that would make Jack's stump ache.
They knew how to spend each other's day offs together. They knew how to find each other.
That's why they knew if the one was on the rooftop of the hospital after a bad shift.
They knew how to live—
Something Jack has never thought he would learn how to again after losing his leg and wife.
They've memorized each other.
Jack thought that it was enough.
Keeping each other in check, pushing Robby to get therapy, offering his own advice, and keeping Robby distracted enough for it not to get bad.
It wasn't.
It wasn't enough because one day Michael Robinavitch, during their shared dinner, said—
"I'm going on a three-month sabbatical," Robby said gruffly, looking at Jack.
"Huh?" Jack perks up, asking genuinely since he didn't hear in the first place.
Robby sighs, "I'm going on a three-month sabbatical, Jack."
Jack doesn't know if he hid it well enough, but his thoughts were going a hundred miles per hour, saying, "He's going on a suicide trip, and I cannot do anything about it. Fuck fuck fuck—"
Apparently he made a face enough for Robby to scoff at him.
"Jesus Christ, man, fix your face. I'm not going to kill myself."
'I didn't even say anything, and yet you said it anyway', Jack thought.
He did, in fact, fix his face and feigned nonchalance.
"Mhm, yep yep. I hear you, brother." Jack said as he poked his food on the plate around now.
Jack tried not to think about it. Trust him, he really did.
He picked up SWAT shifts and hospital shifts as many as he could without collapsing or breaking (he was not stupid; he knows he has limits, unlike someone). But it could only do so much, and Dana basically forced him to have a day off.
Dana sighed for what was like the fifth time when she just arrived for her shift and called him over. "No. You're off tomorrow. You want me to tattle on Robby? That you've been overworking yourself? That you've picked up not only doubles but triples this we—"
"—Okay! Okay, Dana. Thanks. Don't tell Robby, let the man enjoy his vacation." Jack interrupts, adjusting his bag strap and exiting through the door with a wave without turning back.
Now he was here, in his bedroom, freshly out of his sleep, and didn't want to get up.
Dr. Abbot never cried. Officer Abbot never cried. Sergeant Abbot never cried.
So what the hell was he doing?
Why the hell was he wiping his eyes repeatedly with his palms?
Hah.
Fuck.
Robby hasn't called.
But he did text him pictures, letting him know he was alive. Just..no calls, he guesses.
So he doesn't know why he was fucking crying.
He did know, though.
He misses the man. He misses doing handovers with him. He misses having another beside him when he was sleeping. He misses hearing Robby's snores or shitty TV series playing downstairs.
He misses him.
He didn't even realize that in his sleep, he substituted the pillow as something to hug. He just woke up feeling that what he was holding was too soft and too small to be Robby.
And now? He was crying.
He was just as pathetic as Robby.
He was just better at pretending he wasn't.
He had been living with Robby for four consecutive years. No days missed. None.
Was he surprised that he missed the man so much that he was crying over him? Yes, and he thinks that's not funny.
Jack wasn't stupid. He knows what he has been feeling for the man for years now.
He knows that the man was the only one who could make him smile too widely for his liking.
He knows that the man was the only one who could comfort and take care of him just right when he was having an off day.
He knows how much he practically seethes when Robby mentions his hook-ups.
He knows what he's feeling, and he knows he'll never cross that line between friends.
Not when they were on the edge. Not when they were busy talking each other off of the rooftop. Not when they were both going through so much— grief, abandonment, stress, and much more Jack couldn't think of.
There had been moments, though. Moments where they were both okay. Moments that had nothing but smiles in them. Moments that Jack was so close to Robby that he'd practically will himself to not say his feelings in the moment.
One of those moments was in their living room. Their living room.
--
Both of them had the day off. How'd it happen? Jack doesn't know.
But Jack woke up to noises coming from outside the bedroom.
His body immediately reached out—seeking the warmth of another body he was used to. He felt his lips form a frown when all he reached out to was a cluster of fabric.
He groaned and peeked his eyes open—zeroing in on the clock, it said: 9:00 am.
Huh. He's supposed to be still asleep and Robby's supposed to be at work. Who's—
Jack wasn't able to finish the thought before his body moved without him: sitting up, grabbing his crutches, and carefully making his way out of the bedroom, avoiding any noise he could make.
He was ready to tackle a robber—when he froze in the entrance of their living room and saw Robby softly humming to a song playing on the TV. The other man was on the couch, a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.
The universe had great timing because Robby looked up and saw him,
"Hey, did I wake you?" Robby says sheepishly as he reached out for the remote and stopped the video.
Jack, who was still expecting robbery, took a second late to reply, "Nope. Was expecting a robbery. Didn't remember you actually had a day off." He says scruffily.
Robby just chuckles at that and says, "So, breakfast?" He offered as he grabbed an extra bowl that was apparently on the table.
Once Jack made it close enough to Robby, he grabbed the bowl and sat down beside him.
Jack squinted at the TV and could make out some..teenagers? Partying around? He rolled his eyes, guessing it was one of those teenage high school romcoms that Robby really liked watching.
It was like— what do they call that? Prom? Yeah. He's never been to one of those, and it was the wrong move to mention it because then—
"Y'know I've never been to prom," Jack said as he ate his bowl of oats.
There was a pause. Then Robby paused the video playing on the TV.
"What?" The other man said, looking at Jack.
"Yeah. Couldn't afford it." Jack shrugs.
"Even pre-med? Med school?"
Jack squints at Robby. "Did you forget that I got into the military to at least have a better chance at doing medicine?"
Robby chuckles at him. "Well— no. Just that's something considering you do well enough in conferences."
"Hah! That's entirely different. You're not forced to dance with somebody."
"Yeah? Forced? Is Jack Abbot not good at dancing?" Robby looked at Jack, wiggling his eyebrows and with a teasing grin.
Jack looked at Robby and crossed his arms as best as he could with the bowl. "Fuck no. I practically wooed Liz with my dancing skills."
Robby just chuckled at his response before turning his attention back to the TV.
The cursor moved on the screen; it went back to the homepage.
"Hey! I was watching that." Jack protested.
Robby hummed as he continued to open YouTube and search for music. He eventually settled for a video that looked like it should be copyrighted for all the songs used, with a fancy disco ball as the background.
Then suddenly, the bowl with Jack's spoon was plucked out of his hands and placed on the table.
"What the fuc—?"
Jack was practically hauled to his feet, with Robby supporting him. Robby placed the other's hands into a typical slow dance position that was modified for him, hand on Robby's waist, the other on his shoulder.
Robby grins at him as he places his own hands accordingly. "Ready to prove that, brother?"
Jack grimaced as he said, "I had my leg back then."
Robby's grin faltered but was quickly replaced with a genuinely reassuring smile that Jack could practically melt from. "You'll be fine; I'm here to support you anyway. That never stopped Jack Abbot from anything."
Fuck.
He's so fucking doomed.
Jack genuinely felt his mouth curl into a smile at that. He practically wanted to kiss the man there and then. Even say "I love you" in a way that couldn't be interpreted as anything but romantic.
--
He remembers what he was feeling that day. The feeling that shouldn't exist after losing his wife. The feeling that shouldn't even be possible at his age then. The feeling that he shouldn't have let grow.
Now, he wishes he had said it. Maybe it would be enough for Robby to stay.
Maybe with a label, he would finally be enough to stay for.
But he didn't.
Robby was now at bumfuck nowhere, trying to kill himself on that motorcycle.
And Jack? Jack was left at the seams. He was crying. He was hugging another pillow for warmth.
He misses Michael so much.
He doesn't know what he does for a few minutes. He lets the ache in his heart and anticipated grief flow through him.
He doesn't know if he pressed call or someone called him. He just had his phone next to his ear now.
In regards to my last post, let's swing wildly to the opposite side of the spectrum! Rabbot who have a *pleasure* sharing soulmate link 👀 Except it's ROBBY who doesn't know, cause Jack hasn't been with anyone since his wife and Robby is the biggest slut in the ED.
Every other night Jack distinctly has the feeling of his dick getting sucked or buried deep in something wet and warm. It's fucking killing Jack. He works the night shift, so he has to spend like 15mins (lmao) in a bathroom stall. Hands and forehead presses against the wall.
Gasping for air as he feels like his soul is being sucked out through his dick. Finally finally he feels himself getting close, so he pulls himself out. He doesn't even have to stroke himself, the ghost-like touch doing all the work to get him off.
BETTER YET Robby during his shift. It's finally the afternoon and it's been such a long day. There's this feeling creeping up on him. The lightest tickling touches across his cock; gentle stroking of the frenulum. Robby hiding in the bathroom as he feels his dick get hard, but then...the feeling changes...
The lightest touch over his hole...a tentative press or pressure...something sliding inside...Robby leans against the stall, his head thrown back. Robby's never been fingered before, didn't know it could feel like that. He gets stretched out wider and wider.
He's never felt so full. Something bigger pushing inside so deep; it hits something that has his vision going white. He covers his mouth with his hand, unable to keep his moans contained.
It's sweet torture until he finally cums from the slow fucking, not knowing Jack's at home with his toy and imagining Robby 🤭
robby says he needs some alone time so jack says dont worry i’ll be quiet :) you can do your thing :) so robby goes & sits outside on their deck & jack follows & robby is like ???? i said i wanted to be alone & jack totally aghast is like “WITHOUT ME?”
Rabbot time travel au // E (eventually) // Use of the F-slur // Jack is 50 Robby is 22 // nerdy little bubbe’s boy robby my beloved
9.04am. Jack's face hits his pillow. His back aches. His leg aches. His temples behind his eyes ache. With no effort at all, he slips into unconsciousness.
4.27 pm. Jack blinks awake to his face pressed up against a matted foisty carpet. His back aches. His leg aches. His temples behind his eyes still ache.
…did he have an episode?
The carpet under his cheek isn't the lovely plush cream Liz chose, bit it's a blue that accosts his fuckin' eyeballs. A blue you couldn't have paid him to put anywhere in his house. He sniffs and it smells like… like stale beer and overdue laundry. He screws up his nose, takes in the shitty wooden furniture, medical textbooks, shit made bed and Barbara Eden pin up. He turns his face back into the floor with a sigh. A dream then.
Wake up Jack.
"Uh. What?"
"Hi." He mumbles into the carpet to the unfamiliar voice.
Usually Jack's dreams are abstract floating things, strings never tied together, or violent memories. It's been years since he dreamt like this.
"No. No what the fuck, who are you?"
WAKE UP JACK
He tilts his head and peers up at, "Robby?"
"Who are you?"
"Jack. I'm your-" He drags himself up to sit and waves his hand. "- friend, whatever. God you look young."
"I've never seen you before in my life." Robby hisses. "Why are you in my room? Where is your leg?"
Jack snorts.
"Sorry. Sorry. I mean. Do you have, um, how did you get here without crutches or- where is your-" Young Robby babbles. "Prosthetic. Prosthesis?"
"Dunno brother. I normally have my leg in my dreams."
"Are you on drugs? Do you need help?"
"Man, how old are you?" He squints, trying to remember if he's seen pictures of Robby from this exact age. "Pre-med?"
"MS1." Robby says, running his hand through his hair. It flops about weirdly and sticks up all spiky. "Did someone give you a key? Did- did Nige- oh fuck is this Patrick?" Fear flicks across Robby's face. "Can you just tell me what they said to you? Please?"
Its not really feeling like a dream anymore, or if it is then it's a pretty goddamn realistic one.
"Okay. Robby-"
"Thats not my name." Robby snaps. "My names not Robby."
"Michael Robinavitch." Jack sighs.
"How do I-"
"I know you, we're friends, I work with you, just a good thirty years from now." Jack looks at his open mouth dumbstruck expression and thinks, cute. "Help me up onto your bed."
Robby doesn't move. He bites his lip raw and stares at Jack.
"You're gonna leave me stranded on your floor? What would Esther think?"
"You know my grandmother?"
Jack closes his eyes. If Robby is MS1 that means Esther will be still around for two three years.
"I know you've lived with her since you were eight. I know you took her name when she officially adopted you. I know she makes matzo ball soup whenever you're sick even now. You've told me how you used to walk through Squirrel Hill to buy challah before Shabbat. I know, Michael, that she wanted you to move out this year right? Thats why you're here? She thinks you should have this experience because you stayed with her through college, and I know you told everyone it was the other way around and you couldn't wait to leave."
"The fuck?"
"Close the door Michael, and help me onto the bed."
He pitches his voice authoritative and that seems to do it. The kid gingerly closes the door behind him and takes a hesitant step towards him, looking at Jack's bare chest and blushing furiously. Shit, he's in his fucking boxers. Christ.
"Please don't like, kill me."
"If I kill you now, whose gonna put up with my shitty jokes in the future huh?"
"This is insane." Michael mutters, making a mess of it as he helps jack stand and gets a shoulder under his arm. They both nearly go over, but the manage the few steps to dump Jack onto the shitty mattress. "I've- uh- never told anyone about that before. That it was her idea."
"I know brother." Jack says gently. He knows too, that Robby regrets moving out when he could have had those two years with her.
This, of course, he doesn't say.
Robby flops onto the bed next to him and collapses down, sticking the heel of his palms into his eyes. "This is crazy weird. Okay, say if I do believe you, what is this? Time travel? Like back to the future?"
"Sure." Jack laughs, looking at the small patch of exposed skin where Robby's shirt has ridden up.
Seeing him like this is interesting. Robby has a few pictures up in his house- Esther's house, his house, whatever- from when he was younger. And a couple of months ago they'd done that little 'baby photos' thing in the staff kitchen, and Robby had brought in an especially twink-y one from the nineties that had made half the ER swoon. Fucker. Jack would have bullied him if he didn't know that Robby probably didn't have a bunch of baby photos. And the ones he has with Esther seem to be incredibly formal affairs, his bar mitzvah, graduation, the likes.
When he'd stood looking at the wall of fresh faced babies and Robby looking like a fucking nineties boy-band model, Ellis had whispered twink death, DILF birth and patted Jack on the shoulder.
This version of Robby is definitely in his twink era. Floppy hair and ruddy blushing cheeks, his lithe body and sparse hair from what Jack can see. He's a picture, no doubt about it.
"Why'd you call me Robby."
"S' how you introduce yourself." He yawns, then pitches his voice to his best Robby impression and says "Hello there, I'm Doctor Robinavitch but you can call me Doctor Robby."
"Weird." Robby half laughs, a near giggle, peering through his hands now. "So what's the future like? I'm a doctor?"
"You're a doctor now." Robby screws up his nose like Jack's being particularly annoying and the motion is so familiar that Jack startles from his own laugh. "Sorry, sorry. Yes, you're a doctor."
"Where?"
"Here still. PTMC."
"Emergency?"
"Yup, chief in fact."
"Sick."
Jack's eyes crinkle. "Sick." He mimics.
"What about you?"
"Night shift attending." Robby looks down to his leg. "Ah- Iraq, 2004." He shrugs. "They paid for med school and I paid with half my leg. It is what it is. Wish I'd time travelled with a little more than my boxers, as cool as this is."
He's still not convinced this isn't a dream or a psychotic break but what can you do. Weird shit happens. It's a weird world. He'd learnt enough overseas to have a liberal take on the unexplainable, and learnt too to not ever voice that opinion.
"Do you want a shirt?"
"Please."
"Should you be telling me all of this?" Robby asks, shifting through his draws. "I'm not sure if I have anything that'll fit."
"Anything's good." Jack mumbles. "And I don't know. Time travel didn't come with an instruction manual."
"But like, what if you say something that changes a decision I made that was really important to me becoming who I am and the Michael you know, and then you don't know that me- what happens to me then? Or you? Like the classic grandfather paradox you know, because in back to the future-"
"Robby you don't even like back to the future." Jack interrupts, grinning ear to ear at how into it he'd getting.
God, Robinavitch is a nerd.
Would they have gotten along? Where would Jack be right now? Probably sucking off a guy behind a barrack trying not to scrub his uniform in one moment and and then calling Ruiz a faggot and slapping his back in the next. Just one of the guys, right? Jack would have wanted him, but fuck he couldn't have liked him. He would have torn Robby appart, probably, in his effort not to like him.
"What? I do?"
"Noo." Jack drawls. "You hate it. You get all weird every time I suggest it and say time travel shit bores you."
Robby's nose scrunches. "Oh. Well maybe I watched it too much by then. I have seen it a bunch, we have it on VHS."
He gets thrown a Depeche Mode t-shirt and some gym shorts. The shorts are just about okay. Thank fuck for 90s fashion, but the shirt stretches over his arms. He catches Robby looking which is… interesting, but when he looks back he flushes and busies himself with closing all the draws up again.
"So what's the plan?"
"What do you mean?" Robby rocks on his heels. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're in my room. And you're-" He waves at Jack.
"What?"
"Like… old."
"What?"
Robby blusters, "I just mean that you're an adult, an actual adult, you're not old I didn't- I mean- you don't look old you're very-" He stops and bites his lip. Looking at Jack for a second and then turning to flop down dramatically on his desk chair. "This is horrible. Sorry."
"I meant what's the plan for you buddy." Jack laughs, rolling the term of endearment on his tongue and liking the way it sits, with this Robby. "Do you have classes or plans with friends?"
"It's a Sunday." Huh, so it was. Seems like that hasn't changed with his little jolt through time. "I was with bubbe- my grandmother- yesterday and I stayed over this, so I was just going to study."
"Right. Makes sense. What classes are you-"
Theres a rasp on the door, interrupting him. Robby's head snaps to the sound, then back at Jack and then to the door.
"Oi, Mike, we know you're in there, get your ass out here."
This time, when Robby looks over at him his eyes are wide and spooked, the colour slowly draining from his face.
~
3 part mini series because it won't leave my brainnnnn!
You’ve Got Mail // Teen and Up Audiences // 6,543 words
Jack Abbot, night-shift attending at Cook County General Hospital in Chicago, reads an article written by Michael Robinavitch, MD, Chief of Emergency Medicine at PTMC in Pittsburgh, and reaches out via email. What follows is a correspondence neither of them expect.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
frank/shred is really like. frank has spent his whole life avoiding gay thoughts while shred has spent his whole life thinking gay thoughts but thinking that's normal. frank/shred is a one foot height difference. frank/shred is clingy puppy x lone wolf and frank/shred is like if anything happens to you i will be forever changed and frank/shred is like actually i'm changing right now.
Part two to the omegaverse Rabbot w Carter as their son (you’re gonna need to read the first one before this)
Before Jack knows what’s happening, Carter bends over and throws up on his own shoes. Instinctually, Jack leans forward and massages his own shaking hand along his back. “Are you okay?”
Carter nods, but he’s trembling too violently for Jack to believe him. “I need to call my mom.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up first,” Jack says. He ignores his aching knees and lands on the concrete to take Carter's shoes off for him, then leaves them on the curb. Jack places his hands on Carter’s shoulders and guides him to the bathroom.
"Thank you," Carter mumbles. "I could've done that."
Jack shakes his head. "I wanted to." Would've been nice to do it when Carter was five, but he'll take what he can get.
Carter rinses his mouth out in the sink and stares at Jack through the mirror. "When were— You and my mom, what..."
"Uh..." Jack scratches the back of his head. He laughs even though nothing about this is funny. "We met our last year of pre-med, courted for most of med school, and right before we graduated, he ended things."
Carter gives a small, shaky nod. "That adds up." He curls over the sink. "Oh, my God," he sounds like he might throw up again. Jack's hands retake their place on his pup's back. His pup.
"It's okay," Jack says. "Everything is going to be okay."
Wild, red-rimmed eyes meet his own. "I am going to kill my mom."
"I'd prefer if you didn't."
"You should want to kill him," Carter stresses. "I've told him about you. And I know for a fact he's looked on the hospital website; he's seen your photo. Fuck." He whips out his phone, but before he can make the call, Jack grabs his wrist.
"Not here," he says. "We should be somewhere more private."
Carter releases a heavy sigh but agrees. "My roommate isn't working today."
Heart pounding in his chest, Jack offers, "You could... come to my place."
They end up standing awkwardly in the entrance of Jack's home. He's now realizing how unwelcoming his house is; no photos on the walls, minimal decor, at least it's clean.
"This is neat," Carter says. He's being excruciatingly polite because Jack is sure the signed helmet his buddies gave him when he was discharged is of no interest to him. Still, telling Carter a bit about his military time fills the silence for a while, so he takes it.
To his surprise, Carter is genuinely enthralled. "That's awesome," he says. "I'm hoping to join Doctors Without Borders one day; maybe you can give me some tips on combat medicine before I go."
Absolutely not. Jack just got his pup; no way in hell is he sending him to get his own leg blown off. It must show on his face because Carter rolls his eyes.
"You're taking that as well as Mom did."
“Maybe wait until after your residency before thinking about that.”
Another eye roll. “Sure.” He sighs. “I’m calling him.”
“You should eat first,” Jack says. “It’s been a long day; you don’t want to have this conversation angry.” After decades of praying he’d run into Robby, now Jack feels sick at the thought of talking to him.
“Fine,” Carter says. “But I’m still going to be angry.”
Watching Carter eat the dinner he made gives Jack a foolish swell of satisfaction. He cleans his plate and thanks Jack softly; it takes a lot of strength to suppress the urge to kiss the top of his head or reach out for Carter at all. He’s so wonderful. Jack’s perfect pup.
Of course he’s perfect, Jack thinks; he’s Robby’s.
Jack is broken out of his daze when Carter’s phone begins ringing loudly. Before he can say that this isn’t a conversation to be had on speaker, the beautiful rasp that’s haunted Jack’s memories for nearly three decades sings through the house.
“Hi, baby. How was work?”
Jack’s mouth waters at the sound. He doesn’t know if he’s going to be sick, cry, or attempt to jump through the phone.
“Big day, Mom. Very big day.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“Well, first, guess who I’m sitting with.” He holds the phone out to Jack, who gapes like an idiot.
“Uh…” his breath stutters. “Hi— uh, hi, Robby. How have you been?”
Jack isn’t certain what an appropriate conversation starter is when speaking over the phone to an ex who gave him a pup he didn’t know about until an hour ago, but he grimaces at his faux-casual tone.
A long silence stretches between them.
“John,” Robby says, finally. “Take me off speaker. Now.”
Their pup huffs, but does as he’s told. Jack twiddles his thumbs and pretends not to listen to the half of the conversation he’s privy to. Instead, he focuses on the low, unintelligible hum of Robby’s voice.
After a few minutes, Carter holds the phone out. “He wants to talk to you.”
Jack takes it with quivering fingers. “Hello?”
There’s a shallow curse through the phone, then, “Hi, Jack. Long time, no see.”
Hearing Robby’s voice, hearing the man he’s always dreamed of as his mate, say his name again brings tears to Jack’s eyes. “It’s really you.”
“That it is,” Robby sighs. “I’m sorry this is how we’re meeting again.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Jack says immediately.
“Sorry is the least I should be,” Robby mutters. He takes a deep breath. “So… what do you think of our pup?”
Jack can’t help but laugh. He wipes his cheeks roughly as the tears trickle down. “He’s perfect. Robby, he’s the best thing in the whole world; you should see him at work.” From the corner of his eye, Jack sees Carter’s posture straighten. “You did so good.”
“He just looks like me,” Robby says. “His personality is all you.”
“No. Everything I loved about you is in there.”
A sharp sob breaks through the phone, and Jack wishes so badly he could reach through the screen and hold Robby like no time has passed at all.
“I’m so sorry, Jack,” he cries. “I thought I made the right choice at the time; I really did.”
“What did I do?” Jack asks between tears. Poor Carter is pretending to be interested in the spice rack to avoid his newly found father’s sobbing. “What made you think I wouldn’t want him?”
“Nothing,” Robby sniffs. “I knew you would. I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left. I found out two weeks after, and it—“ He chokes on his own breath. “It felt too late to come home by then,” he croaks.
The tears burn Jack’s face. “It wasn’t.” He glances at his pup, who has moved on to inspecting his cereal options. “It’s still not.”
“Jack—“
“Could we meet in person?” Jack’s leg bounces anxiously. “I’ll pay for your ticket and a hotel if you’d be willing to.”
“I can afford it myself,” Robby says.
“No, I know.” Jack’s cheeks burn. “I, well, I just—“
“You never let me pay for anything,” Robby teases. “My alpha: the perfect provider.”
Jack’s heart stops when Robby calls him his alpha. He doesn’t care that it’s a joke; since the moment he saw him in the dining hall all those years ago, Jack has been nothing but Robby’s. “Please let me.”
There’s another beat of silence, filled by Jack’s heartbeat thrumming in his ears, then Robby says, “Thank you, but I’ll pay for it.”
Jack deflates. Maybe Robby has mated in the years since Carter’s graduation, or he’s being courted now, and his current alpha will snap at Jack to back off. “Okay.”
“I’ll book a flight and text John the details.” He sighs again. “I really am sorry, Jack.”
“Don’t be,” Jack says again. “I’m handing you back to Carter, uh, John.”
John says his goodbyes and shifts from foot to foot, picking at the hem of his scrubs. “So, should we play catch or something?”
Jack smiles, raw and exhausted. “We can do whatever you want.”
He shuffles on his feet a little longer, then shyly extends his arms toward Jack. Despite his old, tired knees, Jack launches himself up and wraps his pup tight against his chest. He fits perfectly.
