Wall of Sound
old married couple dom jack and sub robby have fallen out of old habits and reignite their spark with help from one special country mouse
p.s. i update when the brain worms let me
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@vampiiraaa
Wall of Sound
old married couple dom jack and sub robby have fallen out of old habits and reignite their spark with help from one special country mouse
p.s. i update when the brain worms let me
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4
part 5
hucklerabbot + jack's wife's birthday widow grief based on brainworms i was passing back and forth with @puppyjavadi and @puppydogwhitaker earlier.
i would apologize for griefposting but i was taught lying is a sin and i'm really not all that sorry<3 have fun!
---
jack hadn't told dennis about his wife. they'd been dating officially for a couple months now but the circumstances that landed dennis in jack's house were... unconventional, to say the least.
and jack had reacted poorly, okay? had taken her photos of the walls in a haze of panic and stockpiled them in a corner of the closet no one touched. had strung a chain through his wedding ring and worn it tucked beneath the collar of his t shirts. he needed her close, always, but having her out in the open was a vulnerability he wasn't ready to face with this bright eyed med student he now found himself housing.
and yeah, they'd made a lot of progress. had mended wounds they didn't know they'd had. robby even managed to heal alongside them. and now they were all together. the three of them, a little family unit.
but dennis still didn't know. because how does jack bring that up now? how do you tell your boyfriend "hey, by the way, i have a dead wife i've never told you about and i'll never stop loving her." and it didn't help that robby knew. that this was well and truly a piece of their history they'd shut dennis out of. despite all that they said about him being an equal, this was the defining moment of jack's life and he'd kept it from dennis. purposefully hid it, in fact.
--
cw: unhealthy eating habits, mentions of eds
dennis was the youngest of his brothers. by that point his parents have not only given up on raising another child, but also refused to even pay him much mind. some nights they’d only give him the bare minimum of food, like the smallest pieces of meats and whatever left they could scrape off the pan. other nights they would only hand him whatever scraps they didn’t want. and on the worst nights, he didn’t get fed at all. there were some meals where they didn’t bother calling him to the table. there was a clear hierarchy in the house, a natural food chain, and dennis was permanently stuck at the bottom.
being homeless didn’t help. he scraped by during his med school years but his homelessness only fueled the fire, the one that reminded him to take what you need, don’t get too attached, don’t let anyone know, don’t let anyone go through this too.
when he started his rotations at ptmc he was able to snag a few sandwiches here and there, but he never took more than necessary for the fear of leaving patients without any or even his colleagues.
dennis never passes up on free food, not when someone gets motivated to bring something to the people on shift, but he always makes sure to be the last to take any. he doesn’t want to leave anyone without. he can’t be greedy.
“denny, your brothers are older. you understand that right? they need this more than you do. stop crying.”
“maybe you should’ve gotten here faster.”
“i didn’t think you’d want this.”
“do you deserve to eat?”
and oh, that one was the worst one. when he was bad it was used a punishment. there wasn’t much else they could take from him. and sure, he got the occasional beating with whatever his family could find, but when they wanted to be particularly cruel they would withhold his food. dennis didn’t have much too him at all, everything was a hand-me-down. there was nothing of value they could take or destroy, but this. this they could control.
it left him off kilter. he doesn’t know how to really act around food. it’s complicated. being full feels like he’s done something he shouldn’t have. like a child being caught with their hand halfway down the cookie jar. he feels the eyes staring through him whenever his stomach his full. the food weighs heavily in him. it’ll feel more like guilt.
it also left him with a complicated relationship with his body and his weight. in his eyes gaining weight means he’s failed. because it meant he indulged, it meant took what wasn’t his to take, it meant he was losing that control.
dennis couldn’t have control over many things in his life. not his familial situation, his economics, his housing…and he was so desperate to find it wherever he could. he wanted to be good, he wanted to prove he could be good.
so it became easy, the game of how long without. and he’s rationalized as you can’t miss what you didn’t have.
(some nights he dreams of stuffing his face with everything he’s wanted, but that feeling he’s searching for never comes.)
secretly, dennis loves the feeling. he loves the empty growling his stomach produces like an old theater echoing roaring laughter. like heavy thunder booming across time and space. he knows it’s bad, he knows he’s playing a risky game. but he can’t help it. it’s the only thing in his life he can take by the reigns and steer.
moving in with trinity doesn’t exactly help, it only makes it harder to hide. she rarely comments on his odd eating habits, not that he lets her see him in such a vulnerable state that often. but when she does,
“dennis are you gonna eat?”
“dude that’s not enough for dinner?”
“why are you scarfing it down? it’s not gonna grow legs and walk off.”
it leaves him in this odd limbo where he doesn’t know what to do. doesn’t know where to plant his feet like when you miss the last step while taking the stairs and your heart plummets right through the floor. so he doesn’t say anything at all, and tries not to stay long enough for her to notice.
and it’s not a problem. until it is.
until one moment he’s trying to get to his next patient and the next he opens his eyes to bright fluorescent lights, a cold linoleum floor to his back, and what feels like thousand eyes boring holes through him.
“stay down, whitaker.” a deep voice says as he feels a hand press down on his chest. instincts fighting over reason.
he shakes his head, less like a no and more so trying to get his bearings. “no i’m-i’m fine. i’m sorry. i’m sorry, im okay. got up too fast, i think.” he pushes back against the hand but he’s too shaky to do much damage at all.
“nope. not playing this game. you’re lucky i caught your head before you cracked it open on the floor, kid. would’ve made for a gnarly sight right? but im not in the mood for stitches right now so it’s your lucky day.” the deep voice adds and dennis is finally able to get a good look and put a face the voice (though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t recognize it. he could find the older man blind, with sound alone).
the words should be funny, but they land a little flat against the situation. “you’re getting checked, and you’re not gonna fight it capiche?
the fight in him simmers down, dennis truly is tired and out of it. but he just wants to close his eyes and wake up from this nightmare, from the terrifying ordeal of having passed out in front of his coworkers and bosses. how humiliating. would they find out? would the fire him because he can’t take care of himself? because he’s sick?
the tests don’t lie. he’s dehydrated and malnourished. he’s slightly underweight for his height and right now too shaky to properly hold the cup of juice in his hands.
they stare at him all alien. because why would he be going through this?
it’s not entirely a kept secret that he was once living in the hospital, much to his dismay. so he’s supposed to be better now that he’s living with trinity, and not…not this.
“i’m not dumb, you know.” trinity mumbles, leaning back into the hospital chair next to dennis’ bed. “i know you don’t eat.”
dennis opens his mouth to refute but his efforts are futile.
“shut up and let me finish.” she holds up her hand. “i didn’t know to go about it. i mean you’re skittish around food on a good day but on bad ones you outright vanish. you stare at your plate like it grew eyes. or you stuff your face like if you don’t it’ll be taken away from you.” she sighs out.
“i’m sorry.” dennis says around the knots in his stomach.
trinity pinches the bridge of her nose. “what the hell are you even sorry for?”
“alright alright let the poor boy relax.” a new voice chimes in and dennis whips his head to the other side of him.
trinity huffs. “i’m mad, and upset. But i care about you okay? I’m gonna go talk a walk…blow off some steam.” she gets up and leaves the room.
dennis looks down and clasps his hands together, not knowing what to do with them. “i didn’t mean to make her mad.”
“she’s not mad at you. nobody is.” robby says gently. “we’re just…worried. you’re one of us now, we care for our own.” the older man reaches out to lay his hand over dennis’.
“and she’s right you know. don’t think we haven’t noticed. we is maybe…a lot of people. but me and santos definitely have, dana too probably since she knows everything.” and the last bit finally gets a little smile from the young man in the hospital bed. “oh, and-”
a knock resounds off the door before it opens, allowing abbot to come in. “i came as quick as i could. well–as quick as stopping for some food allows me to be.” jack shuffles in bearing bags of take out from a local burger joint.
both him and robby start opening the bags and taking the food and plates out, making sure the three of them have nice portions. jack chatters lightly about the traffic and his day, not wanting the silence to win.
when they set the food in front of dennis, his world stops spinning. he can’t eat, doesn’t feel like he should. he’s made a fool of himself and lost control, he just needs to grasp onto something. dennis needs to plant his feet somewhere so he doesn’t spin out. so he can let gravity win this time around.
jack and robby have started digging in and are playing this game of trying not to look at him which is somehow worse than if they just looked.
“talk to us. walk us through your brain. what’s it telling you?” jack asks, finally daring to break the silence. robby gives him a look but the other man just shrugs.
dennis thinks for a second. “i don’t…know where to start.”
jack looks at him, “does it matter? start where you want. we can always circle back one hundred times if that’s what it takes.” he says, voice softer than before.
“it’s just a lot.”
“what is?”
dennis sighs, gesturing around with his hands. “this. this is.” he brings his hands up to his face and rubs. “i just can’t. i shouldn’t. so i cant.” tears start pooling in his eyes.
“eat? you think you shouldn’t eat?” robby asks gently.
dennis nods, looking away. “if it’s…about the way you look. dennis you’ve always been perfect if that’s what this is about. there’s nothing you need to change. you know we’d always take you in any form you take. you’re much more than what you look like.”
the younger man appreciates the words but, “it’s not about that. i mean–not entirely. kinda? but not really.”
“alright.” robby nods, “then what’s going on?”
dennis opens his mouth and the floodgates open. he pours out about his childhood. the neglect, the punishments, his father. he talks about his relationship with food, how it’s a reward he has to work for and not just a given. through tears he recounts his time being homeless. he hasn’t really touched on that since he started seeing both jack and robby, but it comes out of him all the same. dennis talks about the fears, about the uncertainty of when he could eat next. he tells them how sometimes it’s about punishment, how sometimes it’s much more than that.
he tells them that gaining weight is a bad thing. not for vanity reasons, but because it’s a physical manifestation of control slipping from him. how he has to be good, and not spiral out. dennis recounts the shame he’s been carrying all these years for not fitting in around food like others do. how he feels like an outlier in group settings, how he avoids gatherings with food yet can’t help himself but to take at least something because you just never know when’s the next time.
but worse of all, he admits how he’s so fucking hungry all the time. how it takes over and grows roots inside him. some days it’s all he thinks about. the absolute gnawing desperation inside of him. he tells them that some nights he desperately wants to cave in but he simply doesn’t know how. even if he deserved it, where would he begin?
they listen to him through it all, holding him gently and not speaking, not wanting him to shut it off. when dennis finishes, he’s a mess of snot and tears.
“i wish you could know how taking care of yourself isn’t a bad thing. there’s nothing to make up for, no mistake to agonize over. you don’t owe anything to anyone. you don’t have to play this part dennis. you don’t have to do this to yourself just because no one else will.” robby’s eyes shine with tears. “and no one else ever will get that chance again. not for as long as me and jack are alive.”
that gets a wet chuckle out of dennis, but it doesn’t last long before he quiets back down.
jack shifts, “i can’t lie and say i’ve never seen the appeal. the idea of hurting yourself? we all have had our ways. always trying to reach a goal, always ending up moving the goalpost. but right now, here with us, there’s no need to punish yourself. there’s no reward for it, at the end what do you have to show for it? there’s nothing.” he reaches over to grip dennis small soft hands in his calloused ones. “that should’ve never happened to you at all. you were a child, you were hurt. the weaponized whatever they could against you, just for leverage. but it’s over now, we promise you.”
“and no one’s mad at me?” dennis bravely asks through the lump in his throat.
robby brushes a stray curl out of dennis forehead. “never baby, never.” he presses a kiss to the blonds temple. “we wish we could’ve helped you sooner. but we have all the time in the world to convince you you’re someone worth being taken care of.”
“sometimes bad people need to hold onto bad things for control. fall back on those shitty actions just because they’re spiraling out everywhere else. what your parents did to you, had nothing to do with you as a person. it was a battle you couldn’t have won.” jack clears his throat, looking away. “you’re perfect dennis, as is.” he shifts his eyes back to the younger man. “it’s not your body that we love den, although we do, but it’s what keeps you here with us. the only parts of you we can touch.
and the older pair wants to tell him more. how sometimes bad, angry, people do bad things to be able to take control. to fall back on those shitty actions just because they’re spiraling out everywhere else. to tell him that what they did to him had nothing to do with him. that he’s perfect as is. doesn’t matter what standard he holds himself to, doesn’t matter how he looks like. he’s perfect as is. it’s not about the body he wears. not about how he looks. and though he’s beautiful, it’s about the fact that it’s the body that keeps him here with him. the same body they hold each night. it kills them to see how dennis is treating the only part of him they can touch.
but they won’t say this, not yet. robby and jack hold him through this night, and in the next and the next and the next they’ll say all of this however much it’ll take to take flight until it lands.
just for now they can hold him and pretend that’s enough. (it won’t be, but they’ve got all the time in the world to get him back)
I love freak hucklerobby but I have suuuch a soft spot for sweet hucklerobby :/
dennis who whispers beautiful the first time robby's bare in front of him, making the older man blush, stutter out a I don't— I don't know about that, den.
dennis who furrows his brow in confusion, leans down to kiss a gentle trail down robby's throat, over his chest, humming against his skin. why not?
robby only laughs, shaky, hands sliding into den's curls, grounding himself. I'm not really the "beautiful" type, den.
dennis hmphs. presses a kiss to the soft of robby's stomach, making him shudder. well, I think you are.
robby softening, feeling so fond he might burst, embarrassingly like he might be about to cry. he shakes his head, clears his throat to get rid of it. sweet boy, he murmurs, a hand slipping under dennis's chin to tilt it up, the pad of his thumb petting against den's pretty pink lips. such a fuckin sweetheart.
it's easy to be sweet to you, dennis whispers.
robby scoffs. kid, you're the only one who thinks like that.
dennis kisses the pad of robby's thumb and robby breaks, tugging dennis up into a slow, deep kiss. panting into each other, robby's groans and dennis's quiet whimpers. it never really goes farther than that, not tonight. just wrapped up in each other, warm and safe.
dennis calling robby and jack ‘baby’ send tweet
computer show me hucklerobby porn. computer. do you hear me. hucklerobby age gap yaoi kinky porn now. computer.
i like how we all agree robby is a sub for jack
Going feral over the thought of Jack only calling Robby "Robby" in the hospital. At home he is Michael/Mikey/Misha. Jack doesnt use other words of endearment like darling or sweetheart cos I can see him using those at random for other people so it isn't special.
But barely anyone calls Robby by his given name so it like a big deal and makes Robby feel so soft!
Jack avoids doing it at the hospital but one day when Robby is spiralling or something bad just happens, Jack grabs his cheek and goes "Misha, look at me." And the others are a little shocked when it calms Robby immediately.
Also if the huckle joins the rabbot, Dennis carefully avoids calling Robby Michael/Mikey/Misha because he doesnt want to overstep even though he is literally squeezed between them in bed more often than not. Then Robby sleepily tells Dennis it's okay one night, he would like Dennis to use them too. And Dennis just softly kisses his forehead and shares a giddy grin with Jack before going "Go to sleep, Misha. We've got you"
med school michael tummy, med school michael tummy, med school michael tummy. everyone look at michael's tummy!!!!
Something something Dennis grew up learning that he had to pay people back no matter what.
Even as a kid his parents were counting how much he owed them. Not for necessities, but for toys they thought he didn’t need. Foods or snacks he really liked that weren’t in the budget. Things that, to him, made sense.
After the first time they fell into bed together, Robby feels incredibly insecure and emotional. Sex with Jack was wonderful, in ways he hadn't experienced in a long time. Jack had been sure and gentle and caring and Robby had not been able to form a coherent thought whatsoever. But now it was over. They were both sweaty and a little sticky and Robby didn't know what to do.
Should he stay? God he wants to stay. Stay close to Jack, soaking in the heat, feeling safe and protected in his arms.
Should he leave? They were done and the way they fell into it, didn't really imply any further attachment. A shudder ran through him. This was a one time thing. Probably. It should be enough. It had to be enough. Something to remember and dream about. Nothing more, nothing less.
Slowly Robby got up and looked around for his clothes. He felt naked in a cold way. Ashamed for wanting more. Flustered because he didn't know how to navigate.
"What're you doing?" Jack asked, propping himself up against the headboard.
"I..." Robby started. What was he supposed to say?
I'm leaving?
I need to go?
I'll get out of your hair?
He rubbed his hands over his beard and neck. A habit, that had been built over the years of too much meaningless sex and not enough genuine touch.
"Mikey?" Jacks soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "Come here, okay?" He held his hands out in invitation.
A small, needy sound escaped Robbys throat, as he let himself fall against Jacks chest. The warmth soothing something deep inside his own. His muscles were still tight and he didn't allow himself to relax. Still worried, still not sure if how much of this was okay.
Jack started to rub circles against his naked back with one hand, the other found a place in his hair. Just holding on.
"What do you want?" Jack asked. Always direct in his approach.
"I want..." his voice cracked.
"Just tell me, love"
Love. Jack called him love. Like they were more than brothers in arms. More than friends, who blew off some steam. It was stupid, but it was enough for Robby to be brave.
"I want to stay." he said quietly, almost a whisper. "I want you to hold me." He continued. "I want to come back to you every day and I want you to come back to me."
The hand on his back stopped and went up to tilt his face towards Jack. His lips were captured by the softest kiss, that brought tears in his eyes.
"You can have that Mikey. All of it and so much more." Jack sounded so sure and confident and Robby couldn't do anything else but believe him.
i love writing pitt fic because we know so little about the characters that i can just decide to give them my own personality traits. robby can have a weird love for disgusting gas station coffee. jack abbot can be from minnesota. i can do whatever i want
"why are people emphasizing the size difference between hucklerobby blah blah blah it's so weird and gross—" it's a kink. it's a fucking kink. are you aware of that? are you twelve? "oh why are—" to jerk off my guy. to picture robby's hand covering dennis's or wrapping around his neck and jerk it crazy. ao3 tag size difference. it's hot.
robby looooves when den fucks him in a headlock, loves being squished against that thick bicep, drooly and dumb as den pumps his cock into robby's lube-slick hole, keeps him held tight. this gets you off, huh? you like knowing I'm younger than you? stronger than you? that I can overpower you? oh, fuck, feel you clenching, yeahhh, you do... mm, you feel so good... tight little hole...
bottom robby you are angelic to me
Jack doesn't have to check the time to know it's almost four or five in the morning, he can feel how early it is.
He resists the urge to groan aloud, and even more so the urge to toss over. Not when Dennis's arm was slung over his stomach, slow puffs of air coasting over back of his neck and broken up audibly by the sound of Robby's deep snores on the other side of the bed.
He should be comfortable enough to sleep. His leg doesn't ache right now, even if his hip is protesting laying in the same spot for so long. He is comfortable enough to sleep, he fucking swears- only, his chest..hurts. The feeling of anxiety making the skin and sinew over his sternum feel stretched thin and at it's limit.
Something is wrong.
Nothing is wrong.
Something is wrong.
Nothing is wrong.
Something is wron-
He can't fucking take it anymore.
Jack does his best to be gentle, moving Den's arm from him and onto the bed. Taking the chance to sit up and scrubbing a hand over his face and nine o'clock shadow. He knows for a damn fact he isn't sleeping anytime soon, even if he can feel the ache of it already building behind his eyes.
Reaching for the side of the bed, he stands up on his crutches and makes his way out of their bedroom. Down the hall towards the living room and passed it into the kitchen, where he opened the fridge and grabbed the first can he saw before unceremoniously plopping down at the kitchen table.
Looking down to see one of the half sizes of Arizona tea's they'd been buying for Dennis recently, all after Santos had been frankly appalled their boyfriend had never had an arnold palmer. Much like the avocado situation, Dennis very suddenly discovered a new favorite and had practically been living off them recently.
The sight and sound of the can popping open made something loosen ever so slightly in his chest, just enough for a more full breath.
He brought the can up to his lips and took a long sip. Focusing on the cold and the acidic taste of the drink for something other than his anxiety.
Huh, maybe Santos and Den were onto something here, even if Robby was somewhat right to think they were too sweet.
Jack sits with the silence and a slightly growing frustration for several minutes, his jaw ever so slowly clenching harder and harder. His therapist had prompted him over and over a hundred times at this point to try and narrow down what might make him feel so unsafe like this, had pointed out how broad just unsafe could be.
But that was exactly it.
It was broad. It was all, fucking encompassing. He could sit in his kitchen as a grown man and feel ridiculous for his fear all he liked, but he knew it was the PTSD talking and he knew his partners would want him to wake them up, especially when it was this bad.
He just-
He just-
His lip trembled slightly, god he's so fucking tired.
He heard Robby before he saw him, a product of his husband being 6 feet tall. It was such a welcome comfort, knowing he was being walked up on. He didn't comment on Robby letting his feet drag a tiny bit to make a little more noise, far too thankful for his presence to be anything except grateful.
"Jack, brother?" Robby's sleep rough voice shattered the silence "what's up honey?"
He came to a stop in front of him, clad in the old college shirt and boxers he often wore to bed, if Dennis didn't get to the shirt first.
Jack let himself fall face first into his stomach, fighting to inhale fully and letting the exhale be as shakey as he really felt.
"I can't sleep man" He whispered, his arms coming up and wrapping around Michael's waist.
The same hands that had saved several people yesterday, that had held a knife at home and helped Dennis in cutting up veggies for their pasta, those same hands came up to do what they'd done best for a long time now.
After brushing his curls back from his face, his hands slid down to craddle his face in calloused, warm palms that he loved so much.
Robby didn't say anything for a bit, only really moving to run his hand through Jacks hair gently.
"Why don't we go curl back up with Den?" He murmured, giving those grey curls a little tug. Watching as Jack looked up at him and frowned, opening his mouth to protest "I don't want to wake hi-"
"I think someone needs our emotional support dog," Robby joked quietly, smiling down at Jack as he cotninued on "and I happen to know that said puppy would really like to help in any way he can. Especially when the three of us are off today. So what do you say? I'll put die hard on even"
That pulled a soft snort from Jack before he huffed "Die hard is a damn classic Michael, don't disrespect me right now"
Robby's lips quirked into a smile as he replied "Of course brother,"
Helping his husband up onto his crutches, Robby just rolled his eyes and trailrd alongside him back to their bedroom. Silently telling himself he'd take care of the can later today, far more focused on Jack right now.
They both crawled back into bed on either side of Dennis, who half roused from sleep over the movement. Comfort warmed strength wrapped around his waist once Den had sat up, followed by their boyfriend cheek pressing against his shoulder with a small hum.
"Y'okay love?" Dennis murmured
Tipping his head to lean against the other man's, Jack replied back quietly "Just..got a little scared baby, but it's gone now"
"I'd totally bite someone f'r you, y'know?"
He huffed a soft laugh at how focused Den seemed about it, and he couldn't find himself doubting him. Just like he found that he wasn't lying about the lessened fear.
A second later, the opening of Die hard began on the tv.
After a few beats of the opening music, Dennis spoke up between them "..It's not christmas yet?"
Robby snorted, and nudged the both of them as he said "come on, everyone back to sleep now"
Jack didn't see the credits of the movie this go around.
pitt tumblr pleak don't leave why r u so quiet lately... jingle jingle jingle dennis drooling onto the sheets while robby pounds into him from behind jingle jingle jingle robby crying loud and ugly every time dennis sucks his dick jingle jingle jingle pathetic4pathetic hucklerobby pspspspsps here pup
so do i pay for a quinn membership just to hear his voice……