Work Text:
By the time Jack had finished med school, he had heard a handful of stories of trans men. Somehow, every single one seemed to follow a pattern that he hadn't.
If you were to have seen Jack when he was little, you would've been greeted by countless photos of a smiling little girl in pretty dresses. He enjoyed tea parties and playing with dolls and stuffed animals— accumulating a respectable amount by the time he hit middle school— He even enjoyed playing 'house' on the playground with the other girls.
If anything, he thought he was 'normal'.
He just couldn't explain the itch that made its home beneath his skin. Something indescribable that everyone but him had the privilege of seeing. He knew there had to be something that made him different from the other kids.
The itch had only grown by the time he was in high school, like it ran through his veins. As if his oddness was something he couldn't rid himself of.
In an attempt to be anything but what he was, he looked to the behavior of the other girls and tried to copy them. Tried his best to be the portrait of what was expected of him.
To him, it felt like a herculean task to try and behave like the others. No matter what he tried, even if the outside seemed to match the patterns and trends, everyone could still tell that something was wrong with him. He couldn't pretend correctly. And it led to several moments in his childhood where everything piled up and practically drowned him.
It took him too long to learn how to drown quieter.
He was in high school when he'd decided to let his auburn curls grow. All the girls loved styling their hair into braids and ponytails, letting it grow out to have more to play with. So, he should've loved it too, even if the feeling of his curls brushing the back of his neck made his skin crawl.
He remembered the countless times he sat at the dining table, his mom braiding his hair before school. No matter how many times she showed him how to do it, he just couldn't get it right. It led to countless bouts of frustration. Of practicing on his own in the bathroom and getting so fed up with his stupid hands. It was a miracle that she still did it for him every time.
And yet, even with his dresses and makeup and braids, it never felt right.
He didn't feel right, but acknowledging that was a privilege he couldn't afford.
He was obviously doing everything wrong. He just had to try harder. So, he buried any possibility of being something other than the young woman he was expected had to be.
It was better for him if he focused on his studies instead. By the tail end of his freshman year of college he realized he wanted to work in medicine and dove head-first into it.
Alongside his studies Jack began working out, too. It was one other thing that kept him out of his head, kept the ever impending drowning at bay— even for a little. He tried to ignore the conflicting feelings that bubbled beside his pride as he started to gain muscle. It was harder to ignore the flare of jealousy he felt when he looked at all the guys, miraculously more ripped than he had gotten in those four years of undergrad.
He never did seem to drop that habit.
When he graduated, he went to a medical school in Pittsburgh, finally getting out of middle-of-nowhere Oklahoma. Looking back on those years now, it was like looking through a fogged glass pane. The one thing shining through was the fact that he met Michael Robinavitch. Robby. He was an MS2 when Jack had entered as an MS1, they shared some class together that was just a pain in the ass for Jack.
When the two had met, Jack didn't look at all like himself now. He had long auburn curls that never got put into anything but a ponytail.
Michael had become monumental to him. If Jack was a man, then Robby was the man that he wanted to be. He was gentle and soft but confident and strong too. Nothing like the macho boys from undergrad or the doctors with a stick too far up their ass.
The two practically spent all their time together, attached at the hip if anyone had anything to say about it. And plenty did.
The two never escaped the whispers of gossip telling everyone they were together. It wasn't that Jack hated the idea of dating Robby, it was just…something about it made him feel sick. The thought of him being dwindled down and packaged neatly into 'Robby's Girl' made him angry. He worked too hard to be where he is and if anyone thought he'd be someone's girl, they were sorely mistaken.
Jack, at the time, was never one for checking in with his body or being in tune with his emotions. Honestly, he barely even had time to breathe during some of his rotations. He couldn't pinpoint the exact time where he realized that he was trans. There wasn’t some 'aha-moment', no blinking sign in his head finally telling him, it was just the gradual process of a puzzle piecing together. Somewhere between clinical rotations and Robby graduating, he finally let the puzzle complete.
It was practically unheard of. Why did he feel like he was a boy when he clearly didn't look like it? If he sat with his thoughts for too long, he could still feel the same itch in his veins. Why hasn't it gone away? He didn't know why or how, he just knew he was.
It was tiring.
Every day felt draining. More than just the typical med student tiredness— it was a bone-deep exhaustion, an indescribable weight dragging him down and clouding his mind. With that and his abilities constantly being called into question, with countless doctors— and even some med students with audacity— asking if he really wanted to be a doctor when he could be such a great nurse, with repeatedly having to prove his worth and deal with sexist remarks, he was so angry.
Simmering in his veins; hot and violent.
It came in handy when he enlisted in the army following his med school graduation. Like a life force, it fueled him to be better, to be worthy. He's still proud of the fact that he was a good 68 Whiskey, top of his combat medic class.
But Jack knew he couldn't handle being in the military while being seen as a woman. It was already painful enough to live with the ache up until the ripe age of 26. He knew that things couldn't stay the same. Knowing what he knows, it would kill him if it did.
So, as quickly as was feasible, he transitioned.
In less than a year, Jack Abbot now stood in her place. Overshadowing who everyone had known over the course of his 26 years in pursuit of being himself.
But he knew that just changing his appearance wasn't enough. He still had that compulsion to make himself smaller and unnoticeable and real men didn't.
Looking back on it, Jack didn't like the man that he had become in the military. Everything for him was riding on the fact that nobody found out. He wouldn’t have been allowed to enlist if they knew and if they found out he would almost immediately be discharged for having a "psychosexual disorder".
He had only slipped up once early on in his military career. Part of his slipup was that impending drowning feeling that had followed him since childhood. Where everything seemed to bubble up, his nerves flayed, everything in high-gear when all he needed was some quiet. That time, he hadn't drowned quiet enough. And he realized the true scope of what it took—then, in the military—for him to be a man. He made sure it never happened again. Threw himself full force into copying the men around him.
Even if that meant that his quiet drowning, a blade pointed at himself, now turned to others.
Men were violent after all, no?
He had gotten into his fair share of bar-fights while off-duty. None of them ever amounted to serious disciplinary action—Jack made sure of it. Even if he was seething at the thought of any men looking down on him.
He knew how to handle himself. He was in the military for godsake— and damn good at it too.
Jack doesn't like to dwell on the point where it all came crashing down.
He'd gotten injured on the field in 2010, so severe that his leg couldn't be saved. Like it was fossilized in his chest, he still remembers how his heart dropped to his stomach when he had been struck by a "ma'am" upon waking up from the surgery.
As if nine years of service, of dedication and loyalty and hard fought respect, meant nothing when faced with the fact that Jack hadn’t been born "right".
He had been forced into medical retirement then, and he wasn’t able to fight it—not when they didn’t want "people like him" to serve and protect or to even exist.
Jack hadn’t gone to therapy until he met Isabel, his wife, two years afterwards, when he'd just begun picking up the pieces of himself. When he began working towards becoming an Emergency Medicine Physician. He wanted to be better for her and even for himself too. That's not to say that it was easy by any means. Even now he still has PTSD episodes and bad days. He still can't get himself to give up the strict structure and long busy hours, but it's better.
It took him a long time to accept his little intricacies. He still gets tripped up on the things that make him weak— like a sour taste in his mouth, weakness made you a target. It meant you were less of a man.
The earliest instance of a new emerging pattern was after his amputation.
It was painful to go from always being in motion to suddenly not being able to do much at all. Waiting for his residual limb to heal felt like torture. It was even worse when he had to be helped with basic tasks.
It felt like all the strength and respect he had earned had been washed away.
Now, of course, he knows that his disability doesn't take away from who he is. It doesn't mean he's weak or that he's helpless. But old habits die hard.
When he started to settle into his new normal and started to get used to his prosthetic, there were times where everything seemed to be too big for him. Like his body wasn't a proper vessel for the mountain of emotions he carried, like his stocky, muscled body wasn't quite right for him.
He'd settle into bouts where all he could do was curl in bed, biting his lip or sucking his thumb, and just riding out the sobs that wracked his body and the seemingly endless waves of tears.
And just like the moments where he felt like he was drowning, his capacity for words was tugged away, dangling out of reach. In that state, the best he could manage were pitiful whines, like it was painful to push the words out of his mouth.
He couldn't quite let go of regression. Especially when it became more light-hearted and gentle with Isabel. Pairing it with therapy, he started to feel more solid. Like weights lifted from his shoulders, gentleness seeped back into his frame, making its home where it should've always been.
He didn't intend for Isabel to learn about his regression, at the time he hardly knew what it was himself. He already felt like a burden to her, even if she'd told him and showed him that he wasn't, he feared that being too much would push her away.
She learned how to interact with little Jack in a way he'd never experienced. She took those frightening moments— drowning in his own bubble, experiencing memories he couldn't let go of over and over— and brought comfort.
A comfort he couldn't remember receiving.
He cherished the moments of her and little him as much as he cherished her entire being, and then some. Cherished the light she brought into his life.
When her light startled to dwindle with cancer slowly wiping her out from the inside, he made sure he continued to be a light for her too.
It was cruel, knowing that his light wouldn't be enough. He wouldn't have ever been enough.
Jack didn't know what to do with himself without her. It was a strange thing to be on the other side, to be the on receiving the bad news instead of giving it. It tore him up from the inside.
He couldn't stop himself from falling back into bad habits.
The bar fights started re-appearing.
They were small at first. Arguments so that he could feel the burning under his skin, a little shoving so that he could prove that he could take it. It escalated into something physical, fists flying through the air just so that he could feel the rushing of his pulse and the pain radiating beneath his skin.
Michael knew about all of this.
Jack, somehow, landed a job right at the PTMC where Robby had been working since he completed his residency. It shocked him when Robby didn’t recognize him, like somehow it slipped his mind the radical change he had undergone since the two had reluctantly parted ways. Part of him wanted to get to know Robby as the man Jack truly was. He didn't want to risk shattering the image of the man Robby had "just met". It was a different feeling, like a level playing field. The other part of him didn't want to lie to the man's face so boldly.
It had taken almost two years for Robby to figure it out.
Okay. Maybe Jack had done a bit of lying for his own sake.
He spent nine years of his life taking testosterone in quiet, hurried moments throughout his leave or between deployments. It had always been his. His own secret, something that was just for him to have. And to suddenly let another person into that was terrifying, even after sharing that with Isabel. The possibility that Robby would react the same as the surgeons, like a switch flipped, like the man he'd gotten to know was "just a woman" just like that…it made him sick to his stomach. The loss of Robby knowing him felt like it would be greater than the loss of his military career. For him to say he was relieved when Robby understood, was an understatement. But, it opened up an avenue for their friendship to grow deeper roots. Jack, quite frankly, found it hard to lie to the man that much after that.
Robby had been the first person to know when Isabel passed.
He had also been the one to bail Jack out when he'd landed himself in jail after a bad bar-fight.
The two of them preferred to leave that in the past, where it belonged.
It took a while before Jack started to let comfort seep back into his life, for him to learn that he still deserved it even after everything he's done, after everything he's been through. Michael had to learn the same. The two were connected like that, shockingly similar reflections with different cracks that ran just as deep.
Jack started to find that comfort with Michael. After Isabel passed, Jack pulled away from Robby, torturing himself because it felt like what he deserved. It took some heavy conversations with his therapist before he began filling the rift and letting Robby help him in turn. The two grew impossibly closer. Reaffirming to the other that they would have a tough time trying to rid themselves of each other.
Soon enough, Jack let Robby see the little side of him. The one that never quite went away, the one that makes him feel devastatingly softer, the part of him that he still needs. He pushed away the heavy doubts of being too weird, too gross, too much, because Robby had shown him time and time again that none of that mattered.
Now, Robby enjoys the days he gets to spend with little Jack. Treating him to all the kindness and comfort he deserves. He enjoys the nights he gets to spend in his and Jack's bed even more. The days they now spend together, touching and kissing each other freely. It's nearing three years since the two had gotten together. In those years, it's become very clear that Robby is Jack's boy.
#
It had been another typical night shift at the ED, nothing too out of the ordinary. Like a never ending cycle, Jack was happy to be going back home. To have some time to himself, to get off his feet and sleep a little.
He walked Robby through the Pitt, going over all the cases he took and that Robby was going to have to watch over. Their typical dance.
He pulled Robby over to the locker room, not quite by the hand but close enough. They never really advertised their relationship to the ED. Everyone knew they were close, but none knew the fullest extent— At least not for sure. Neither were too keen to change that.
Most of the pittlings had already run off to their stations, fluttering about, so nobody was in the locker rooms.
Wonderful.
The two, of course, had been weary about PDA at the Pitt. There were frankly too many lives to save and worry over to even think about a kiss or a pet name slipping out.
But now, Jack was pulling Robby into a gentle kiss. One hand cupping his cheek, thumb rubbing over the wrinkled skin near Robby's eyes— He loved those wrinkles. He loved being able to have this. To kiss him softly, as if he could transfer all the love he felt for the man through one touch. He reluctantly pulled away after a moment.
When Robby's mind eventually caught up to the situation, he asked, "What was that for?"
"Something to get you through this shift." Jack said with his stupid grin.
"Well," Robby pressed a small, chaste kiss to Jack's mouth. "Thank you."
"I'll see you after your shift, brother." Jack smoothed hands over Robby's blue jacket, before finally stepping out of Robby's personal space.
Jack eventually grabbed his jacket and slung his camo backpack over his shoulders as Robby moved back to the door, ready to brave the challenges of today's shift.
"I'll see you." Robby smiled.
#
Robby preferred that Jack regress when he was around, so that his boy wouldn't be all alone without someone to watch him. Of course, with their contrasting schedules and long hours, sometimes it wasn't feasible. But tonight, Jack didn't have to work and he really wanted his mama. So, he attempted to push away the clouds that so desperately wanted to settle in his head. He could ignore the call of his soft pj's and plushies until the time Robby returned home.
But, that was still almost two and a half hours from now. If it was a good day.
And it was getting harder to ignore. To the point where he started to feel more frustrated.
It was childish. Why did Jack feel the need to act as if he was a child for him to be okay? Why was ignoring that for as little as two hours so difficult? He'd dealt with being in active combat and running on little rest, but this is what is slipping him up? He scoffed, the sound echoing in the empty house.
Suddenly, he seemed far more interested in proving that this was stupidly unnecessary. He could be Robby's Boy without having the man care for him like a toddler.
Jack spent most of that time tiring himself out in their gym, repeating exercises until his limbs thrummed in time with his pulse and carried a dull ache. He took a quick shower, only bothering to put on shorts before moving to make some dinner for the two— who knows what Robby has actually eaten throughout his shift.
As if he timed it perfectly, by the time the meatballs were simmering and he was pretty much done cleaning up, he could hear Robby fumbling to get the keys into the door. Robby toed off his shoes, hung the keys on their rack, and set his backpack down in its spot before making his way over to Jack.
"That smell's delicious," Robby smiled. "Did'ya miss me?"
He see's Jack sat on his typical stool that he uses when he cooks, his crutches leaning against the counter top nearby. Robby is soon circling his arms around Jack from behind, leaning his head onto his shoulder. Jack turns his head to kiss Robby before responding, "Always miss you."
"Made us spaghetti and meatballs." Jack said, turning off the stove and moving the pan off the heat. "C'mon, move," He patted Robby's head. "Gotta get plates. Who knows if you've eaten, Robinavitch."
"I..." Robby abandoned his sentence, pressing a kiss to Jack's cheek and reluctantly pulling away.
Jack maneuvered his way over to the cupboard, picking out twin sets of plates and cups. He passes the cups over to Robby before sitting back on his stool. "Thought so." Jack commented while fixing two portions of their spaghetti.
The two were soon sat at their dinner table—the one that Robby kept from his grandmother— working through their home cooked meal. Jack couldn't pinpoint when he started to drift away; when his eyes seemed to unfocus and droop of their own accord, when he started to push the food around on his plate instead of eat it, when he started to suck his bottom lip into his mouth.
"You doing alright, Jackie?"
He blinked back into focus. Robby was looking at him with what he deemed to be a sad look and he'd already finished his food and his glass of water was empty. Jack looked down at his own plate and still saw food covering it. "Huh?" Jack said quietly.
"I asked if you're feeling okay, Sweetheart?"
"Uh-huh." Jack rubbed his hands over his eyes. "Yeah— yeah I'm good."
Robby ducked his head to encourage Jack to look at him. "You think you can take a couple more bites of that for me?"
Jack knew exactly what was going on with himself, he just didn't want it to be the truth. He wanted to push it off because he was fine. But now he's feeling untethered and Robby's right there.
Instead of Jack attempting to be cohesive and bark back denials, he nods.
After taking a bite, Jack realized that he was still very hungry. He ended up finishing his plate and feeling nice and full. He looked up at Robby when he was done, his face sort of blank figuring out how he should feel. When Robby responded with a grin and a, "Good job, Bunny," he smiled.
Robby took both their plates to the sink and cleaned them. Jack managed to get himself up on one forearm crutch, and he grinned, very proud of himself— he found that his crutches were much harder to use when he was small so he preferred to avoid them. He wanted to help Mama with bringing the cups too, but he could only grab one at a time. He set Mama's empty glass beside the sink before retrieving his own, mostly full, cup and moving back to be near Mama.
He held onto his own cup, waiting for Robby to get done with the dishes. Jack had pulled his lips to the side, gnawing at the corner of his mouth.
"Mama, water?" Jack asked, holding the cup out for him to take. Mama has always told him that little boy's like him need to use a sippy cup so that he didn't accidentally make any messes, and he likes making sure he follows Mama's rules.
"What do we say?" Robby reproached, taking the glass from Jack.
"Pleaseee?" Jack all but whined.
"There we go," Robby smiled. "Thank you for asking so nicely, sweet boy. Go settle down in the living room, I'll bring you some water when I'm done here."
"Okay, Mama." He said, carefully making his way over to the living room. He was still leaning on objects with his left hand, not wanting to risk the possibility of falling. He was eager to abandon his crutch against the couch and settle onto the floor.
The living room was covered in with a large rug extending from the recliner at the far side of the room and ending at the wide couch that made as a divider between the entrance/dining room area. They had a pretty wooden TV unit that held several novels and medical journals (Robby's doing) and photo albums (Jack's doing). There were matching wooden end tables on either side of the wide couch, the one on Robby's side had a stack of books with various levels of being read through. His favorite part of the living room was the storage basket, in the same dark tavern wood color, that was filled with all his toys.
Robby, after learning about little Jack, grew to love giving the boy various toys to play with. Grown Jack had been embarrassed by the growing collection of toys, but he would be lying if he said that it didn't soothe him when Robby was so accepting of that part of him— and little Jack was always overjoyed.
He crawled his way over to the basket, tipping it to rest on his knees as he gently rifles through all the toys. The basket contains some two soft stuffed animals— a gray bunny and a light tan teddy bear— various plastic animal figurines, some race-cars, a sensory book, and some dolls.
Some days he liked playing with the dolls the most. Of course, he still always carried around the bunny and teddy bear everywhere, but the dolls made him smile. Dressing them up and brushing their hair with little plastic pink brushes, it reminded him of his actual childhood. But here, now, he gets to be mama's boy and play.
For now, he picked up the teddy bear, placing it squarely in his lap, and his favorite doll, which he sat on the carpet in beside him. He put the basket back in it's place. Jack gnawed on his bottom lip and ran his hands through the carpet, back and forth, back and forth.
He crawled over to lay on his back in the middle of the soft carpet, placing his doll on his chest— right between his faded top surgery scars— and held the teddy bear to his face, rubbing the soft fur over him. The sight almost mimicked that of a cat grooming itself with how Jack repeatedly rubbed the stuffed animal over his face, content to relish in the feeling of the softness against his skin.
Robby giggled over him, having finally made his way over to the living room. "What's my sweet boy doing?"
Jack just peered his eyes over the top of the bear to look at him.
"I got your water, some pj's, and a paci, for my little bunny." Robby continued, crouching down near Jack. "We can change in a few minutes, but it's not good for you to bite your lip so much."
Jack moved the bear away from his mouth and Robby swiftly popped the soft green and pink pacifier into his mouth. He smiled into it and went back to his playing, preparing himself to actually move and change his clothes. He didn't want to move, couldn't make himself do it quite yet, so he was glad that mama understood.
The next time Jack peeked, Robby was sat on the couch, reading glasses low on the bridge of his nose reading through one of his many books. When Jack sat up and put his toys gently aside, Robby asked, "You ready now?"
Jack nodded, his hazel eyes wide and impossibly soft. Soon, Robby had his boy on the couch and easily maneuvered him into one of Robby's old worn out band tee's and some soft sweatpants. Jack preferred softer, worn clothes like these instead of typical 'child-print' pj's, claimed they were too scratchy, and Robby was all for making sure his boy was comfortable.
Before Jack ventured out to play again, he popped the pacifier out of his mouth, handing it back to his Mama, before he took long sips out of his green, forest-patterned, sippy cup. He made sure to thank his Mama too, always wanting to be good.
He went back to the box and retrieved his three other dolls to accompany the first he chose. The first one was the one he always picked, it wore curly auburn hair, earrings and a necklace, and a simple skirt and t-shirt.
He spent a while combing through the first doll's curly hair. "Mama," He said, turning around in his criss-cross position to look at Robby and show him the doll. "He's pretty, yeah?"
Robby marked his page in the book before resting it on his lap. "Yeah, buddy, he's very pretty." Robby responded with a soft, curious smile.
Jack turned back to the dolls, now intent upon playing. He took his curly haired doll and laid him out on the floor before turning to pick one from the pile, one with smooth blonde hair.
He lightly shook the curly haired doll with his left hand, "Oh! What happen? I feel like I's sleep forever."
With his right, he held the blonde doll, taking on a lower voice, "Silly little girl," His voice wavered. "We's took your leg. It was all bad. Now you cant be strong anymore. Silly. You not right for us." Jack finished with a pout.
He sniffled before moving his left hand again, making the doll sit up. "I's always strong. Stronger than you." He blew a raspberry, "Mean, mean man. You're not right."
He tossed the blonde doll to the side, with a borderline scowl on his face. Jack could feel the tightness in his throat and his jaw— He felt icky all over, as if he was back in that same hospital bed. He hated it. He's nothing like what those men thought of him. He didn't like the feelings bubbling up inside him. He didn't like the cold, sticky feeling of the first tear sliding down his cheeks, but he couldn't make himself stop.
His hands left the doll, furiously trying to wipe away the growing pools in his eyes and the burning of his nose. He can protect himself now. They didn't take away how strong he is, so he doesn't know why he can't stop crying.
He didn't quite notice when his Mama left the couch, but almost as soon as his tears started, he was being scooped up into Robby's lap. "Oh, sweet boy," He cooed, pressing a kiss to Jack's head and holding him close. "It's okay, you can let it out."
Somehow, here in Robby's arms, Jack found his deathly silent sobs turning into choked off whines—something loud and mournful and broken. Years worth of tears finally having their outlet, finally easing Jack of the crushing, drowning feeling he'd held. He half-hid his face into Robby's chest, digging his teeth into the middle knuckles of his right hand.
Robby held Jack for as long as he needed, pressing kisses to his soft silver curls, and whispering bouts of comfort and praise.
"You're alright now, Jack. It's okay. I'm here." Robby soothed into his hair.
Robby had seen similar scenes in children throughout his years in medicine. With that, and the fact that Jack never quite told him what happened when he was discharged from the military— safe to say that Robby now had some theories. And the burning need to punch any stupid military officer who took one look at Jack and saw a woman. Aside from the fact that Robby had seen pictures of Jack from that time— hair cropped so short that his curls could barely form, his stocky, muscled body filling out his uniform, his freckles darker on his skin from the constant exposure to sun— Jack looked like nothing but a stunning man. One who had worked ten times harder than any soldier to earn his place.
He knew how people used to view trans people, how some still do, but the thought of someone rewriting their whole mental image of someone who they hadn't even known beforehand just to demean their effort was sickening. To do that to a combat medic who served for nine years in the field— and likely would've served more if his injury hadn't been so severe— was a testament to the character of them than to Jack's. It hurts Robby to know what Jack has been carrying on his own, even just a fraction of it.
Eventually, sobs stopped wracking Jack's frame, his tears having slowed into frequent sniffles. The biting of his knuckles turned into running them back and forth over his lips. He felt gross. And his head hurt, pulsing at his temples. He just felt tired.
"Maaa," Jack whined, moving to paw at Robby's shirt.
"Oh, my poor baby, I know." Robby pressed one more kiss to Jack's head. "I should get you all cleaned up. You tired now, bunny?"
Jack nodded, turning his head into Robby's chest. He didn't wanna get up. He felt like jelly, like he could fall asleep right here. Maybe if he held his Mama's shirt tight enough in his hands, he'd understand.
"C'mon, baby, I need you to sit on the couch for me." He patted Jack's back. When he received a furious shake of a head and a whine in response, he cooed, "I know, sweet boy. But I can't carry you right now. You need to be on the couch for Mama to try and carry you."
With a pout, Jack reluctantly accepted the parting of ways. He still needed a bit of help getting onto the couch though, but soon Robby had a hold of him. Jack's arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs dangling by Robby's side, as he held his boy up. "You're just the tiniest baby, huh? All ready for bed." He smiled softly, walked the two back to their room.
Robby's body was surely going to hate him for this but he doesn't regret it. He couldn't make that boy walk when he was clearly the smallest he's ever been, and Robby love's holding him like this. Cradling him and making him feel precious and as if he was truly small.
It was barely two minutes before Robby was settling Jack into bed. Even after explaining to him, Jack looked pitifully sad when Robby pulled away from the bed, whining and lifting out a hand to pull him back.
"It's alright, baby. Mama will be right back, okay? Just a second." Robby made sure to hurry back with the tissues and a wet wipe.
He made quick work of cleaning Jack's face. No more mess, no more fussy baby.
Truly, Jack would've threatened to kill Robby for even thinking of hopping into their bed without taking a shower after the shift, but with a baby Jack lying in his bed waiting for his mama to come join him, could Jack really blame him? He settled for ridding himself of his day clothes and putting on a fresh pair of boxers and shorts.
Robby settled into bed, pulling Jack up against his side, the two nestled under the covers that definitely weren't staying like this by morning. Jack rested his head on Robby's chest, ear pressed to skin listening to the even thrum of his heart.
In no time at all, Jack found his eyes drooping, settling into an even rest pressed against his mama. With Robby's arm wrapped around Jack, he soon found his breath evening out as he slipped into the warm blanket of sleep.
It was the softest, warmest place for the two of them to be.