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Happy pride month to them
Rabbot head-cannon — Jack’s prosthetic
Been rewatching the Pitt and can’t seem to get this scene out of my mind. My heart aches at the way Jack cleans up his prosthetics after a hard day… and my mind automatically goes to Robby, him being a person whose love language is acts of service and all — during the days where Jack hardly had the strength to take care of himself, Robby’s probably taking care of Jack’s prosthetics for him without even mentioning 🥹😭 …it got me thinking 🥰 so here’s a ficlet based on my brain worm. Plz enjoy!!
—
Robby has always been someone who expresses his love through actions.
When they first started spending nights at each other’s, Jack often found himself wondering just how on earth Robby was the way he was — he had so much love to give, and he offered it with such an ease that made it seem like loving and taking care of Jack came to him as naturally as breathing.
Robby’s condo came with a coat closet right next to the front door, and within a week after moving some of his stuff to Robby’s — during which Robby insisted on helping despite them living only fifteen minutes apart — Jack found himself staring at a renovated closet section customized for his crutches and prosthetics. Robby even had a separate space dedicated just for his athletic prothesis, and a drawer underneath for his extra sock liners and supplies. The way everything was organized allowed Jack to switch from his prosthetic to crutches with such convenience that it even exceeded the setup at his own place.
Jack was caught off-guard and left in awe as he struggled to get words out, his throat tight with emotion. He’d never had anyone do something like this for him, someone to put such care to and have such understanding about maximizing his comfort, providing things that Jack didn’t even know he needed.
When he found Robby and circled his arms around him, Jack held on with so much gratitude and affection and all the emotions in between left unsaid, conveying them through the most tender kisses. Robby just smiled softly and acted like it was nothing. Even later, when they were lying in bed, face to face, coming down from the high Jack curated to repay Robby the way he knew best, he found himself staring into those big brown eyes that held so much fondness and devotion and felt so incredibly loved.
Jack was so full and warm that he thought he might burst, affection brimming over and spilling from every inch of him.
—
After a double shift in the ER, it was almost expected that his shoes and the legs of his cargo pants would come home bearing the grime and stains of a hard night spent saving lives. And on especially intense nights, those marks would expand and seep through the cotton fabrics and land on the surface of his prosthetic leg. As a result, Jack had gotten used to spending sometime cleaning his prosthetic and wiping his shoes after arriving home, going through the familiar steps absentmindedly, his thoughts carried away, reflecting.
But Jack had lost two kids that one specific day — both under five years old, and he barely had enough will power to drag himself back to Robby’s condo, it being closer to the hospital than his own place. The last image he had of those kids followed him relentlessly—small, fragile bodies lying still, ET tube protruding out from their mouths long after it failed to keep them breathing. He felt like a soldier carrying the weight of the fallen home, even though he no longer had bodies left to bear.
He was so desperately drained that it took every bit of him to reach the front door. As soon as he detached his prosthetic from his stub, Jack grabbed his crutches and stumbled into the living room, leaving behind his prosthetic leg in the pile of his shoes and scrubs — his shedded sorrows.
I’ll take care of those when I wake up. He thought as he collapsed onto the sofa in one exhausted motion, ignoring the dull ache spreading up his leg after the tension had been released. Clinging to the possibility of an attempt at finding respite within the subconscious mind, Jack drifted off.
What he didn’t expect was waking up to the smell of a home-cooked meal and soft jazz bellowing from the record player. As he slowly gathered his senses from a dose of restless sleep —nearly three hours, he registered as he squinted at the face of his watch — Jack recalled the state of himself before he passed out on the sofa. He winced slightly, fragments of memory surfacing piece by piece.
The noise. The reality.
Blood on the floor. Machines beeping, people running.
And oh, the kids. The tiny body bags, too light for anything to feel real at all.
As the events of the day came back to him, he found it harder to breathe. His eyes frantically searched the room and found what he was looking for — Robby across the space in the kitchen, spatula in hand, swaying and humming lightly to himself. As if sensing Jack’s gaze, Robby turned his head, wearing the most endearing smile, eyes glinting behind his glasses.
Hanging onto the light of those pupils he so longed for, Jack breathed out, air finally finding its way back to him.
“Hard day?” Robby greeted, and Jack hadn’t realized how starved he'd been for the sound of Robby’s voice until it reached his ears. It sounded like home.
Robby was there, at home with him.
“How about some pasta, and you can tell me all about it while we cuddle and drink some wine?”
As he processed those words, Bruce Springsteen echoing in the background, Jack realized he was helplessly falling in love all over again.
—
It was after a meal together, followed by lots of comforting hugs and kisses and a bit of tears, when Jack finally reached the final part of recounting his day.
He didn’t know how much time had passed with them sitting like that, in each other’s arms, Robby’s hand gently brushing through his curls, his way of offering silent support and encouragement for Jack to keep going. His gentle giant.
“And I came home, and got my leg off, and went straight…” As if recalling something, Jack pushed himself up, his head turning towards the foyer.
“Shit, I totally forgot —”
Between the hearty meal and emotional conversation drifting into the deep waters, Jack had completely forgotten about his prosthetic he left lying on the entryway floor.
He went to grab his crutches, before quickly landing a peck on Robby’s lips apologetically.
“Be right back.”
Jack prepped himself up, heading to the front door to take care of the scattered mess he left behind. But to his surprise, there was nothing to greet him.
Instead, the prosthetic leg that was supposed to be on the floor was now tucked away neatly in its place in the closet, all traces of that hard day gone and replaced by the shiny reflection of clean carbon fiber. His wet shoes were dry, and clean, and his liner sock — folded nicely in the drawer — had been washed.
Robby. Jack realized. Robby had taken it upon himself when he arrived home, cleaning Jack’s prosthetic and putting everything into their places while Jack slept.
Nobody had ever done something close to that for him before.
People always assumed that it was a personal matter and treaded gingerly around him. Even on rare occasions where Jack had asked his late wife to help him with the care routine, him suffering too much from phantom pains to do it himself, she had approached each step with such careful tentativeness, checking with Jack along the way, as if the prosthetic leg she held in her hands was something foreign, fragile and reverent. She did the best she could with so much love, care and understanding, and Jack wouldn’t have asked for it any other way.
But Robby? Robby just did it.
He hadn't handled the prosthetic like an artifact or an object worthy of extensive care, nor did he see it as foreign or some delicate representation of distant grief. Robby treated the whole process with the same unthinking familiarity like it was among the most ordinary rituals of caring for and loving someone — instinctively and matter-of-factly, as though it had never occurred to him to do otherwise.
Robby did everything without mentioning anything. Like it was as unremarkable as folding a shirt or putting a book back on the shelf — not because it was insignificant, but because it was Jack’s. And anything that belonged to Jack simply belonged in Robby’s care.
Because in Robby’s mind, Jack was his. In all of his entirety.
Overwhelmed with emotions, Jack turned back to look over his shoulder, finding Robby’s eyes. He had been staring at him this whole time, gaze so soft that Jack’s heart swelled and grew impossibly full.
“I…Robby…What —” Jack tried, not able to find the right words that would carry the weight of his emotions.
Where was his knack for words when he needed them?
“Michael —” He breathed.
“I love you too.” Robby said, finding Jack’s words for him, his expression saturated with love.
“Now get yourself back here so I can kiss you some more.”
—
(2025) ✨ the holy trinity of leverage ✨
SHAWN HATOSY as ANDREW ‘POPE’ CODY ANIMAL KINGDOM SEASON 2, EPISODE 4
How R4!Robby and MS4!Jack would look in canon btw
Curious what is actually normal for bed time. Go for your normal/average time, not your most extreme or what you wish it was.
what time do you go to bed? (local time)
7pm or before
8pm
9pm
10pm
11pm
12am
1am
2am or after
it's never consistent
some other time entirely
I just don't know what grownups do for bedtime and I want to know!!!
The first thing that startled Robby was just how long it took him to realise what he'd done. He'd strode across to meet the incoming ambulance, heard what info the EMTs had to pass on, walked the gurney into Trauma One, supervised Cassie and Nazely's assessment and stabilisation of the patient—gunshot wound to the abdomen, lower right quadrant; congratulations, you've just won the hopefully-once-in-a-lifetime chance to have Yolanda Garcia rummage around in your insides—and only then did it hit him.
He'd been out in the ambulance bay on the phone with Jack when he'd heard the wail of an approaching ambulance. Their discussion of whether to try the fancy new pizzeria with the odd toppings around the corner from Jack's place, or just to stick with the tried-and-true option for watching the game tonight, would have to wait. "Gotta go," Robby had said, distracted as he tried to estimate how far out the rig was, "see you later, I love you."
Robby stood there in the trauma bay and the full horror of the realisation slowly dawned on him. He'd told Jack he loved him. He'd told Jack he loved him, and then he'd hung up on him.
"Fuck," Robby said.
He snapped off the nitrile gloves he was wearing, binned them, and pulled his phone from his pocket between his thumb and his forefinger, as if he was handling some kind of medical waste. Nothing. No missed calls, no voice mails, no texts except for a scam one trying to get him to pay an imaginary FasTrak toll in California. Nothing at all from Jack, and Robby couldn't decide if that was better or worse.
Hand-off to Shen and Ellis was its usual clockwork, and on the drive over to Jack's place Robby went through various stages of bargaining with the universe. Maybe Jack hadn't heard him. Reception in the ambulance bay could be spotty. Calls sometimes dropped. Or maybe Jack would laugh it off, treat it as just the kind of brain fart you sometimes got near the end of a long but humdrum shift—like how a little kid in elementary school might absent-mindedly call their teacher 'mom' in front of the whole class.
A little voice in Robby's head, one that sounded suspiciously like his therapist, said what are you bargaining here for, exactly? Which was one of many reasons why therapy was doing a number on his temporomandibular joint, because clearly Jack had been getting along just fine with Robby not saying anything, even though Robby had surely been painfully, mortifyingly obvious, and wasn't the whole point of the therapy sessions for him to learn how not to leak his feelings all over everything and everyone?
And really, Robby thought as he parked in front of Jack's building and sat there rubbing at the hinge of his jaw, would we even call what Robby felt for Jack love? Or if he did, well, there were lots of different kinds of love. It didn't have to be that kind. Did it? Robby strained to recall all those ancient Greek words for love he'd studied in a long ago philosophy gen ed course. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, one two three. Who was to say that Robby hadn't meant brotherly love? Philia. That could have been what he meant.
It's still bargaining if you're splitting hairs and looking for get-out clauses, his little internal therapist pointed out.
"Fuck," Robby said.
In the elevator ride up to Jack's condo, Robby wondered if there was scope for him to invent some sudden emergency. If he could just text Jack and say, Sorry, can't make it tonight, my condo's flooded or Cafeteria food gave me food poisoning, see you in 24-48 hours. But part of him felt like: well, hell, face the music. Play stupid phone games, accept stupid phone prizes.
See you later, I love you.
"Fuck," Robby said, with emphasis.
Right after he knocked on Jack's door, Robby realised he'd been so distracted by what he'd said that he'd totally forgotten what he'd promised to do in the first place. As soon as Jack appeared, in shorts and a ratty old t-shirt, Robby blurted out, "I didn't bring any pizza."
Jack looked at him, slow and steady, and then said, "We're working on our conversational segues, huh?"
"You heard it, right?" Robby said as Jack stepped back to let him in.
"Heard it, yeah," Jack said, closing the door and used one of his crutches to point in the direction of the living room. Robby obeyed, glum. The pre-game show should have started by now, but Jack's TV was switched off. A glass of whiskey sat on the coffee table. Robby had the distinct impression that he wasn't going to be watching the game that night. "Heard it, thought about it. Processed," with that precise, Dr-Abbot-y enunciation that could be terrifying when turned on a wayward med student and that now made Robby wince.
"I'm sorry," Robby said, hoping Jack would also hear the sincerity in his tone. "It was a lapse, it doesn't have to mean anything, I can keep a handle on it."
"Oh my god," Jack said, in tones of disbelief as resonant as if Robby had just confessed to liking low-fat popcorn, or thinking that the Pirates had a chance of winning the World Series this year.
"I can go," Robby offered. "If you don't want—"
"Sit," Jack said, and pointed at his couch. Robby sat. Jack picked up his glass and knocked back the last of the whiskey in one big gulp. Robby winced. That boded."Okay."
"'Okay' what?"
Jack squinted at him. "You think you're getting to steer this conversation right now? Because that happened earlier, and look where that got us."
"Jesus," Robby said.
"Let's leave him out of this," Jack said and, setting his crutches down, moved to straddle Robby's lap.
"Um," Robby said.
"You didn't need to woo me with fancy pizza," Jack said, "because brother, surely you know a sure thing when you see it. But I will say—"
Robby was long familiar with that particular tone. He rolled his eyes, preemptively.
"—as first declarations of like, undying passions or whatever, you could do with a little more finesse."
"Undying passion?" Robby echoed.
Jack stared impassively at him and raised both his eyebrows. "Well?"
Robby took a deep breath and fought not to close his eyes. Surely he could be brave enough to say this to Jack face-to-face? "I love you. I'm in love with you. I don't know when it first started but I do know that I can't imagine myself now without that fact of loving you. I'm not… I'm not good at words, I don't sing love songs well, but for you, I wish I could."
Jack leaned forward, rested one hand gently on Robby's chest, right over his heart. The expression on Jack's face now terrified Robby; made him want to keep being brave.
"I said it because it's what I'm always feeling. When I say hello to you, I mean I love you. When I say good night, I mean that I love you. When I—"
Their first kiss was a slow thing, a tremendous thing, with as much weight and heft to it as Jack had in Robby's lap. Robby's hands came up to settle on Jack's hips, and his head swam like he was the one who'd drunk the whiskey, instead of just having licked the taste of it from Jack's mouth.
"How about now?" Jack murmured, voice gone raspy. "Do you mean it now?"
"Yes," Robby said, and he'd never wanted Jack to believe him so much about something as he did right now. "Jack, I—"
"I love you, too," Jack said, and he was smiling like he'd just discovered the map to some undiscovered country, and the only thing that startled Robby now was how long it had taken them to speak.
Husbands on a date, chibi edition 🥺💕
I just. I feel like you can't have tunnel vision in watching this show. if you put robby in the vacuum of his relationship with samira, and only that, he seems like a worse person than he is. zoom out.
out of the med students, who did he like the most this season? it's pretty obvious the ranking was 1. victoria 2. joy 3. ogilvie. do the nurses feel comfortable around him? absolutely, he has a great last scene with donnie where he's understanding and sent him home to take care of his wife and kid, dana is one of his best friends and they make each other laugh no matter how much they fight, princess and perlah joke about him and with him and appear very comfortable with him.
he checks in on mel, throughout the season, he tries to support her. he pushes trinity to see the trauma counselor twice, advocates for her to baran, and they clearly are very comfortable around each other, joking around. he clearly cares about victoria, and very much believes in her, giving her an opportunity to do a cool procedure in front of her mom, urging her to not pass another opportunity up with the brain surgery stuff, fixing things after he got onto her. and while he got onto her, she was very comfortable standing up and talking back, which is notable.
in s1, he has a couple rocky moments with Heather, but overall, their relationship is great. they constantly check in on each other, asking if they're okay. he took over the abortion case for her when she raised concerns. he sent her home early when he found out about her miscarriage, urged her to rest, comforts her. there's trust there.
he listened to trinity over langdon, believes her and takes action, more than anybody else did that day. he praises her, and already likes her, again, more than anybody else did that day, where samira, frank, and even heather were all riding her. he never did that.
even the storyline with cassie gets overinflated, and you can see him trying to listen to her. she tells him that Theresa needs therapy, and he's kind of a dick to her face, but immediately after he goes and gets theresa an appointment with a psychologist upstairs. and his admittance that he was wrong, that he "did not think enough about those girls" was genuine. his later backslide, his "your mess. fix it." is not born out of "this is all your fault" but "I can't do this right now." the apology happened before pittfest, the backslide happened after. and again, such an important moment between them was Cassie telling Victoria she "learned from the best" and looking over at him.
there are seeeveral moments throughout the show where we get glimpses into what he's usually like, and better relationships. he's generally liked, generally trusted, his staff generally feel good around him and respect him. when people call for his help, he comes running. even the good moments he has with samira are erased, standing up for her against the drug-seeking patient, praising her during pittfest, backing her up to garcia. no, I don't think robby is a good boss to samira. I do think he tried to be.
and yk I do feel like it's noteworthy, the person Robby idolizes, looks up to the most, is/was Adamson. a black man.
Robby has biases, Robby needs to work on these biases, he also needs to become aware of them first. I'm not saying he doesn't have his issues, he has a fuck ton. thank god the pitt gets baran for at least a few months. but zoom out a little. so much conflict is overinflated because it's completely lacking of any context.
REBLOG if you are old enough to remember what a VCR is.
I was trying to bite the bullet but I swallowed it
abbot + text posts
Harry Wilson in The Scared Stiff Job (S03E03) LEVERAGE: REDEMPTION (2021—)
i love these suicidal old men
y'all ever wonder why people aren’t just like. nice to each other