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The shift had been going relatively well. Robby would say 2 MVA’s, 1 STEMI, and 4 projectile vomits were a big win, based on the multiple horrible day shifts they’d had in the past six months alone. He’d been watching Whitaker closely; he only had to change scrubs twice, Langdon and Santos weren’t arguing in the open, Mel was handling her cases perfectly, and Javadi was out of her own head today.
Yeah, it’s been a good day. Robby was nodding at the rotating patient board, watching triage update statuses, when Dana appeared at his side.
“So…any big plans tonight?” Dana wiggled her eyebrows at Robby as he shot her a frown.
“I have the next two days off, and Jack is off for the next week for doctors' appointments. Tonight is the first night in a long time he and I can actually enjoy a night out together.” Robby's hands disappeared into his jacket pockets, fiddling with something just out of sight.
“Those are big plans, especially for you two lovebirds. Tell Jackie I say hi, yeah?” Dana pulled herself away, shuffling after another nurse carrying one too many clipboards.
“Who’s Jackie?”
“Fu- give a man a warning, Whitaker!” Robby ripped his hands from his pockets as the pale med student appeared beside him. The blue-eyed boy smiled sheepishly, shrugging as Robby continued to glare.
“Sorry, thought you knew I was there.” Whitaker squinted at Robby, who had reached back into his jacket pocket mindlessly. “What’s got you so jumpy anyway?”
“Just want to get off this damn shift and enjoy my days off.”
“With Jackie?” Robby blushed at that question, ignoring the way Whitaker was analyzing his face.
“Keep it to yourself, I don’t want the rumor mill catching wind of something you think you heard.” Whitaker laughed at this, moving around the hub's counter to sit at a computer. Robby’s computer, which Whitaker didn't notice or care about.
“By rumor mill, you mean Princess and Perlah?” Robby didn’t take the bait, ignoring Whitaker’s question instead to watch the board update again.
“There’s a head lac in south five that needs your attention, Whitaker. I recommend you put your skills to better use than reminiscing on what my evening plans are.” Whitaker rolled his eyes, logged off the computer, and stood quickly.
“Fine…tell Jackie I say hi.” Whitaker heads off towards the triage hall, leaving behind a very frustrated Robby. Who, up until this moment, was enjoying his day. He had been actively choosing not to engage in how nosey his day shift had become, but it was becoming increasingly harder.
The shift change could not have come any faster. Robby cruised through the handoff with Shen, who was happy to move faster than usual so Robby could run full force into his days off.
“See you in a few days, Dr. Robby!” Robby waved at Emma silently as he shuffled through the Pitt in his civvies. His jeans were cuffed just above some tanned brown Blundstones, shoes he had refused to buy himself until Jack left them on the shoe rack one day with a sticky note simply stating “wear the fucking shoes”. He was also wearing a shirt Jack had bought him from 5.11, not that he would admit that to anyone.
“Looking good, Dr. Robby,” Dana was posed outside the ambulance bay doors, cigarette held tight between two fingers. Robby chose to ignore that fact, lectures be damned.
“Is it bad to admit Jack picked out 80 percent of this outfit?” Robby rubbed a hand through his hair, letting it stick up slightly as he adjusted his backpack. The gold on his ring finger caught the evening light as he unclipped his helmet from the bag strap.
“Meh,” Dana shrugged, “I think it’s hot he dresses you.”
“Please don’t imply you find Jack hot.” Robby shamed with a smile, tightening the helmet strap under his chin, flattening his once spikey hair. Dana only laughed, flicked her cigarette, and waved a hand absently at the attending.
“Go on, loverboy, have a good evening!”
Jack was waiting on the front porch when Robby pulled up on his bike. Robby, as usual, was speechless as Jack stood up on the stairs and stepped towards the bike. It wasn’t that Jack ever went out of his way to dress up or change his looks, but when he wore his civvies that weren’t cargo pants and a button-up, Robby always felt hot and flustered.
“Fuck…Jack,” Robby blushed deeply as a hand wrapped around the back of his neck. Jack smiled and planted a kiss on Robby's lips, who will admit that he whined a little.
“Good shift, I take it? You came home faster than normal.” Jack had his spare helmet clutched in his other hand, a deep red that Robby had ordered after a month of dating.
“No reason for the roof when my biggest anchor was waiting for me at home.” That earned him a slight tap to the top of his helmet as Jack swung his leg over the bike behind him.
How the fuck am I supposed to drive like this? Robby groaned to himself as Jack's pelvis pushed into his hip bones. Jack chuckled like he heard Robby’s inner turmoil and strapped his helmet on.
“Let's go, big boy,” a slap to Robby’s thigh, “I really want that whiskey sour.”
They’d been coming to this bar since their intern rotations. It was beat up in the best ways; slot machines were pushed to one side, multicolored overhead lights were strung half haphazardly around the room, tables lined up under the windows, and high top tables were scattered by the support beams. They played anything from jazz to 90s hip hop, and the bartender tonight, Joe, had been serving them since before they were even dating.
“Hey, boys!” Joe slapped the counter roughly as the two attendings approached him. Joe had been there for the worst of their years and the best, had seen Robby at his lowest, drinking himself half to death before Joe ended up calling Jack, and had seen Jack relearn to walk just so he could order whiskey standing up.
“Hey Joe, just our usual drink order? And we’re gonna do 2 burgers tonight, as they come, extra tots.” Robby slid his card over the counter to Joe, who had already turned away to the white iPad, tapping away furiously.
“I’m gonna stalk our usual table,” Jack whispered to Robby, before slipping away towards the windows. Robby watched the man walk away slowly, as he rotated his hips to slip between two high tops that had been shoved closer together to watch that evening's game.
The sound of glasses being set down in front of him distracted Robby momentarily.
“I started y’all’s tab,” Robby turned back to Joe, who was watching him with a small smirk, “since it’s y’all’s anniversary imma give you a discount. Don’t tell nobody though, especially Dana.”
Robby laughed, picking up the two glasses that Joe had slid towards him, and winked at Joe.
“I won’t tell, promise. She’s a jealous beast anyway, before knowing she could drag her husband here just to get a discount white claw.” Joe shook his head, laughing to himself lightly, grabbing a towel to wipe away the water stains left by the glasses.
“Be careful now, it’s game night. We already had some unruly characters, even for early hours.” Joe nodded towards the few tables shoved together, filled with college-age men who were shouting at screens.
Robby nodded, “noted, thank you, brother.”
Jack was perched at their usual table, under the third window where a stained-glass hummingbird hung, catching the last evening light that crept through. The table was low enough that Jack could take weight off his prosthetic, but high enough that it didn’t hurt their hips to stand up after eating.
“Hey, handsome,” Robby smiled, handing over Jack’s whiskey sour, “come here often?”
Jack let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head mischievously, “To be honest, I wish I came here more often, if it means seeing your ass leaning over that counter again.”
The rowdy tables of college kids had fallen quiet as their food had arrived, broken conversations filling the air instead as they roughly traded fries and tots between each other. Robby swears he saw a ketchup bottle go flying for a second, before loud, obnoxious laughter filled the air as one of the college kids stood up and smacked somebody beside him.
“I would take this any day over those damn stuck-up ‘we only take reservations’ restaurants,” Jack said, as if, again, he could hear Robby's inner turmoil. Robby cast his gaze sideways to the other man. Jack, who was still rosy-cheeked in the evening sunlight, brown eyes glowing slightly where they met Robby’s. Robby swears his favorite part about growing old with the other man was watching his eyes gain more stories to tell and his face changing with the exhaustion of their job.
“I swear you grow more handsome daily,” Robby murmurs. Jack reaches out and swats Robby’s hand where it rests on the table, whilst light enough not to hurt, Robby feigns pain, pulling his hand away.
“You dare to hurt the hand that feeds you? I think that’s in the bible somewhere, look it up! I might have to sic Whitaker on you; he knows more than I do.” Robby rubs at the barely even red mark on the top of his hand, and punctuates it by sticking his tongue out at his partner. Jack rolls his eyes and scoffs lightly.
“Oh, please, mouse can’t even approach me without getting flustered. I swear he’s terrified of his own shadow.” Jack finished off his drink, humming as the cold hit his stomach. Robby, unabashed, watched the way Jack’s adams apple bobbed, and the way Jack's tongue flicked out over his bottom lip.
“I’ll be right back, baby,” Jack said slowly, testing his weight on his right leg, before grabbing the empty glass and heading back towards Joe. Tonight, Robby wasn’t going to comment on the drinking. He knew Jack wouldn’t pass three glasses tonight, plus Robby was driving, so he wasn’t too concerned. Robby let his thoughts travel as his fingers tapped against the table.
God, he’s so perfect. His secret smiles, the way he laughs, the way he doesn’t comb his hair on days off, I swear, every day he gets more handsome, and it’s only so he can torture me. I mean, come on? Who grinds on someone as they’re driving a motorcycle?!
“If you’re so desperate for my attention, baby boy, you could just ask for it.” Robby’s eyes shot up, attention broken, to the sound of Jack's voice drifting from the bar. Joe was standing nearby, eyeing Jack and the young college boy who stood before him. The kid, who didn’t look a day over 22, stood with clenched fists at his sides, red-faced and glaring at Jack. Jack, who leaned against the bar like it was another Tuesday, was smiling softly at the young man before him.
Robby shifted in his seat slightly, rotating so he was facing the bar, watching Jack closely as the young kid slammed his wallet down on the hard counter.
“I ain’t desperate for shit, old man. I’m just saying if you are gonna get it on in the back of the bar, at least have the decency to move the fuck away from us.”
“Oh, get it on in the back of the bar…” Jack let a wicked smile spread across his face, rotating his glass in his hand before he took a sip, “had a lot of experience with that?”
“The fuck does that mean? I ain’t no faggot like you!”
“Strong choice of words there, sweetheart. You’re not my type, anyway, but I’m sure I could find someone to help out with your…internalized homo tendencies.”
Robby swears he could see the moment Jack's words settled over the room. The high top tables filled with the rest of the students fell silent, drinks were set down, and heads turned. Robby was now accepting his fate to pull Jack out of this situation, standing slowly to approach the bar. Joe was already shaking his head as he watched Robby stand, the bartender moving to clear glass off the countertop.
“I’m everybody's fucking type, fag, think you just don’t have a thing for being told what to do.” Jack laughed at this, actually laughed, which caused Robby to take a few steps forward, stopping just shy of the high top tables, who still hadn’t noticed him approaching.
“Being told what to do is my specialty, baby.”
That was enough for the young college student, apparently, who decided in that moment that Jack was just enough of a problem to deck. Jack was still smiling as the college kid raised his hand up, fist still clenched tight. Before a larger hand wrapped around the pale, small wrist and yanked it sideways.
“Now, why the fuck are you ruining my evening?” Robby hissed out. His grip tightened around the kid's wrist, pulling him away from Jack, before placing himself in between the two. Robby could swear his pulse was racing harder than it did during MCI’s; he couldn’t hear past his heart racing in his chest.
“Do you know this fag? Y’all were sitting together, looking like you wanted to devour each other right on that table. It’s disgusting, disgraceful, and shoving it in our faces? I should fucking show you my type.” The kid attempted to yank out of Robby's grip, which had only tightened with the struggling. Robby was the one smiling now, a light chuckle leaving his lips.
He’d heard lots of terms used over the years towards them. It took a lot of time and discussion, and input from Jack’s therapist, for them to come to terms with the fact that homophobia will always exist.
“Your type? What does that even mean, kid? Do you hear yourself, rambling about disgrace and disgust, like you ain’t drinking and cheering for sports. Pretty sure that’s in the bible too.” Robby glanced behind him, taking in Jack, who was finishing off his glass, and Joe, who was quickly taking the glass away before it could become a potential projectile.
“Baby, could you look that up for me? Or maybe text Dennis, I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.” Robby turned his attention back to the college kid who was red in the face and shoving against Robby’s chest roughly, “Dennis is another friend of ours, he’s also a…what did you say? Fag?”
“Let me fucking go!” A hand shoved again, a small outburst of air from Robby’s lungs, but his grip didn’t falter.
“Listen, this is how it’s gonna go: you’re going to walk away, I don’t even need an apology, you’re going to sit back down with your little friends, take a sip of your beer, and keep watching the game.” Robby watched the kids' eyes flicker with fear as Robby’s other hand appeared and grabbed the hand, shoving into his chest.
“My husband and I are going to sit back down, finish our meal, and then leave for the evening. We’ve been coming here for almost 20 years, and one evening of a homophobe who hasn’t realized he likes it in the ass is going to ruin it.” The kid's mouth hung open in shock, eyes darting between Robby’s as he curled an eyebrow in questioning.
“And if I don’t?” The kid squeaked out, trying again to yank his wrists away. Robby frowned deeper at this, keeping his grip tight. He was pretty sure he was bruising the kid, definitely leaving marks to be found later.
“If you don’t, I’m going to break your arms in a way doctors won’t be able to put together. Want to test how I know that?” That seemed to petrify the college kid, who was now physically shaking enough that Robby could feel the tremors in his own arms. He watched thoughts flicker through scared, drunk eyes as decisions were made quickly. Walk away or fight the doctor twice your size?
Moments passed as Joe continued to move behind the bar and Jack let a hand crawl over Robby’s shoulder.
“Let him go, Michael.” Robby slowly released the wrists of the college kid, who watched with wide eyes still. When his wrists were fully released, his hand reached and grabbed his wallet back off the counter. Robby watches him shuffle back to the high tops in shame, the rest of his group staring at the two doctors in shock, but no words are said.
“I packed y’all’s food to go,” Joe approached them with a white bag, “not kicking y’all out permanently, but they’re gonna be here a few more hours. Don’t really want y’all getting jumped in my lot, I care about y’all too much for that.”
“Thanks, Joe. Give Melissa our best,” Jack nods at the bartender, accepting the bag and Robby’s credit card back. He pockets the card and faces Robby’s back again, who is trying to get his breathing back under control. He reaches out and tugs at Robby’s sleeve, nodding his head towards the front door.
“Michael, take me home?”